Hearts are Open Graves
by ThisLittleDeath
Summary: Joel returns to pay Wednesday a visit. Only, something is very different about him. No longer the nerdy boy, a tall, dark, and dangerous stranger stands in his place. Rated M for suspense, violence, sexual overtones and Addams' style morbidity. Enjoy!
1. Dark Encounter

**New story with some old faces. Please read and review! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even the story title (It belongs to Elysian Fields). I just love it! **

**Hope you like the story! Enjoy!**

**Part One: Dark Encounter**

In the living room of the Addams' mansion, Wednesday's phone rang violently as she struggled to unearth it from the bottom of her oversized bag. She checked the caller-ID before flipping it open. She scanned the room quickly, not wanting to be overheard. When she was mostly sure she was alone, she answered.

"What do you want?" she sneered in a whisper.

"I wanted to see how you're doing. It's been nearly three weeks, there's nothing wrong with that," the voice on the phone answered in a low, defensive voice.

"Oh, there are _plenty_ of things wrong with that. I told you_ never_ to call me again," Wednesday insisted, her voice scathing.

Before the voice on the phone could reply, Wednesday slapped the phone shut, and threw it into her bag. Annoyed, she stomped up the stairs to her room and slammed the door.

When he was sure she was gone, Pubert climbed down from his perch in the ceiling, burgeoning with pride over his new hiding spot and brimming with curiosity about who Wednesday's secret caller might be.

Alone in her room, Wednesday pondered the problem of her caller. She looked at her desk calendar. It was July 20th. School had been out for nearly two months, and it'd been three weeks since the last time she saw him. Before that, it had been a month, and before that, nearly six years.

The first time she'd seen him this year, she'd nearly jumped out of her skin. Six years ago, he'd run out of her life and had been shipped across the country to a boarding school chosen specifically for that reason. She hadn't thought about him since - until he was randomly lounging up against the outside wall of her school on the last day of classes. She and Pugsley had eaten their last cafeteria dinner for the school year and had split up to go pack their things. Wednesday took one last look at her window as the sun slipped behind the horizon before wheeling her things to her car.

She'd nearly run into him when she'd exited on that last day, in a distinct hurry to be out of that hellhole and home in her own. She'd been concentrating on finding Pugsley, when a lazy voice curled around her name, "Wednesday Addams."

It had been the way he'd said it that startled her. Most people said her name in whispers or with a distinctive sneer she'd begun to recognize as the preppy girls' attempt at an intimidating voice. It was not the half-fearful, half-authoritative voice of the teachers who tried to force her to respect them despite their obvious fear of her. He'd said her name like a caress, but with something else that she couldn't quite put her finger on at first.

When she'd turned to see who had called her name, scornful face already set, she'd nearly fainted with the shock of who she saw there. She knew him immediately, though for all intents and purposes he looked nothing like the child she'd known. She was stunned into silence and she gawked.

He'd grown. That was the first thing she noticed. No longer small and scrawny, he was tall, angular, subtly muscular and substantially more comfortable in his own skin. His glasses were replaced by contacts, she assumed, that showed off his dark eyes. She didn't remember him having green rings around the irises, but then again, it had been awhile. The babyish curls of his youth were partially hidden under a skullcap, but those that stuck out seemed darker, heavier than she remembered. He seemed pale beneath the spotlights around the school. He was dressed in heavy layers of black and grey, with frayed jeans and black Converses. She remembered he looked utterly bored, waiting, leaning up against the wall, a lit cigarette in one hand, tendrils of smoke curling around his still body.

He laughed. It was a lazy sound, a proud sound. A cocky smile curled his lips, and he spoke, "So you recognize me. That's heartening. Who would've thought I'd be able to shock the great Wednesday Addams." His voice was raspy, from the smoking, she thought. It was low and even, and slightly sinister.

She hadn't known what to say but was hugely annoyed at the fun he was having at her expense, so she forced a coherent thought through. With as much indifference and condescension she could manage, she said, "What are you doing here?" She crossed her arms across her chest and let her weight fall on one hip – accentuating her indifference.

Joel Glicker laughed again, and flicked his cigarette away before standing up and facing Wednesday head on. She noticed he was now several inches taller than her, and she'd worn her three-inch platform combat boots.

He stepped toward her, his movements taking on a slightly menacing edge, and Wednesday felt uncomfortably out of her element. She did not know what to expect from him. She refused to retreat and instead let him come uncomfortably close to her, less than a foot from her body. Rolling her eyes, she lifted her face to meet his eyes, still waiting for her answer.

"Waiting for you." He'd said, simply.

Wednesday shook herself from her reminiscence. Even in her memory he rattled her. She couldn't decide if she liked the feeling or not, but she hated a mystery.

It had been that motivation, more than anything else, which had led her to agree to meet him that second time, about three weeks ago.

She didn't know how he got her cell phone number, but he'd called her around July 4th wanting to get together and 'catch up.' She'd told him to piss off and he told her he'd come pick her up, and she told him she'd murder him if he tried, and they ultimately agreed on a meeting place a few miles from her home, a ridge overlooking the huge town cemetery where they'd be far enough away from the ridiculous tourists celebrating the deaths of thousands of soldiers with hot dogs and glow sticks, but close enough that they could still see the fireworks over the distant hill.

When she'd pulled up in her Mercedes almost a half hour after they'd agreed to meet, she thought at first that he'd stood her up. But as she shut off her engine and prepared to get out and look around, she noticed the black Harley Roadster leaning up against a tree silhouetted by the setting sun. She saw him then, sitting in the deepening shade of a weeping willow overlooking the drop into the valley below. He was dressed in black again, and the contrast between his black form and the rows of white tombstones below took Wednesday's breath away.

He heard her approach, and turned his head in her direction before rising slowly. She felt a sudden twinge of fear that warred with her insatiable curiosity and her annoyance that this stupid boy could get such a rise out of her. She needed to know more. She walked right up to him and sat down under the tree, waiting for him to do the same.

She didn't look at him, only stared over the horizon and at the tombstones below them. Finally, he sat too, but stared only at her. She felt his eyes burning into her cheek, so she turned and said, "Alright, I'm here. What do you want?"

He didn't laugh this time, or smile even. He just stared deeply into her eyes. His stare unnerved her, and although he didn't move, she felt suddenly that his presence was overwhelming. She shifted uncomfortably, and situated herself a few inches farther away from him. Her movement broke his stare, and he smiled now, almost proud of himself.

"I've told you this already, Wednesday," he said, "I've come back. And I've come back for you." He said this like it was common knowledge, not a romantic revelation, but a statement of already decided upon facts. He returned to staring at the horizon as Wednesday puzzled out his words.

"Come back for me? What does that mean?" Wednesday asked, feeling a defensiveness rise up in her. "I never asked you to come back."

Joel laughed one hard laugh, before digging through his pockets for his cigarettes. He lit one and took a drag before answering, "You misunderstand my meaning." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye for a one long moment, before returning to his smoking and staring out at the horizon.

They sat in silence as true darkness fell. When the fireworks started, Wednesday felt her attention divided. With each blast of color and light, she found herself stealing the opportunity to glance over at Joel. He was transfixed, his eyes wide, and his breathing staggered as he watched the mediocre (at best) fireworks fill the sky. She couldn't understand his absorption. She and Pugsley had set off much bigger and brighter fireworks than these. She was supremely unimpressed.

One of her stolen glances at Joel nearly startled her. She would have sworn that, after a particularly large explosion, she could see fire dancing in Joel's eyes, and in the partial light on his face, she swore she saw maniacal grin, giving him a distinctively demonic appearance. But after the blast faded away, his face appeared normal again – cold, lazy, stoic.

When the fireworks ended, Wednesday had risen stiffly and headed for her car without bothering with goodbye. Joel rose also and called after her, "I'll see you later then."

Wednesday made a non-committal grunt, too unsure of her own feelings on the matter to answer one way or the other. She didn't bother to turn around, so she was immensely startled when she felt his hands on her shoulders, spinning her around and pressing her up against the passenger side door of her car.

Before she could form a retort or begin to fight back, his face was inches from her own, his body pinning her to the car, one hand on her cheek, and the other resting against the car, caging her in.

She drew in a deep breath to scream or tell him off – she wasn't sure which – when he placed one finger over her lips.

"Wait," he said softly.

She was too shocked to disobey, but her eyes were wide with fear and confusion, and her muscles coiled to attack. Just as she began to realize that she was just standing there, letting this guy push her around and that she should fight her way out of his pathetic hold, he removed his finger from her lips and brought his face even closer to hers, so that their lips were nearly touching.

She stopped breathing. She knew that now was the perfect time to attack and that, if he really meant her harm, trying to kiss her first was the stupidest move ever. She could simply bite down on his lip and startle him before stomping down on his foot and kneeing him in the groin. He'd be on the ground in two seconds flat. But then, if he meant her harm, wouldn't he know that already? She couldn't figure him out.

Confusing her further was a sudden whiff of his cologne, which sent shivers down her spine. It was both cold and fresh, and well, strange, but appealing.

He smiled. Lips lightly touching Wednesday's, not even enough to be classified as a kiss, he stopped and smiled. And then spoke very softly, his lips moving against hers, "Your heart is racing. Are you frightened of me?" His voice had that lazy, sinister sound again.

Wednesday didn't know what to say. Annoyance at being incapacitated flared up in her, and she pushed against him. "Back off lover-boy. It'd take much more than the likes of _you_ to frighten _me_," she mocked.

She pushed, hard, against his chest.

He didn't even budge. It was as if she hadn't touched him at all.

She pushed again with the same effect. If her heart had been racing before, it sped double-time now, and when she looked up into his eyes again, she saw her own, wide with fear, reflected in them.

She quickly rearranged her features, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was scared. She took her hands from his chest and crossed her arms around her own. With a look of utter disdain, she stared him down. "Now what?" she asked.

He laughed now, at what, she had no idea, so she waited impatiently for his answer.

"Oh, the lengths to which you'll go to avoid admitting you're afraid," Joel mocked.

"I'll die before granting you that satisfaction," Wednesday answered slowly and clearly, eyes locked on Joel's.

He smirked, but otherwise said nothing.

Wednesday broke the silence. "So, are we done here?"

Joel smiled, and stepped away from Wednesday's body.

She moved quickly, but not so fast as to reveal the depth of her fear, and opened the driver's door to her car. As she climbed in, Joel's voice cut through the silence.

"I'll give you a call sometime," he smirked, a smile in his voice.

"Go to Hell," she murmured, mostly to herself, as she got in and sped off.

"Been there…" Joel murmured to himself as he watched Wednesday's car peel off into the night.


	2. Dark Secrets

**Part Two: Dark Secrets**

It was 3am. He turned the water on as hot as he could stand and put his hands under the near-scalding water. He watched as the blood from his hands swirled in the draining water like red-brown ribbons. When the water ran clear, he washed his face and raised his eyes to gaze at the face in mirror.

He sighed heavily. He barely recognized the face he saw there. Pale and fierce, his sharp features, straight nose, and strong chin, mocked him. And the eyes. Though it'd been years, he couldn't get used to them. He allowed himself one more second of nostalgia and self-pity before shaking his head to clear his thoughts, standing tall, and flashing a half-hearted attempt at his lazy, cocky smile.

It didn't reach his eyes, which still mocked him in their alienness. He sighed again and then stalked off to get some sleep.

In the Addams' mansion, Pubert had decided to confide in Pugsley about Wednesday's mystery caller. He'd spent the week since he'd overheard her spying on her more intensively, but he hadn't discovered anything more about the mystery caller. He was about to give up, but he had a strange feeling about it, so he knocked on Pugsley's door.

"Pugsley?" Pubert called.

"Come on in, Pubert," came Pugsley's reply.

The little boy took a last quick look down the hallway before bounding in the room and closing the door behind him.

Pugsley gazed at Pubert, confusion contorting his face. "What's up, kid?"

Pubert straightened out his hair and mustache before answering, "I come to you with a delicate matter, brother. I could use your assistance."

Pugsley laughed, "You know as well as anyone how good I am with 'delicate' matters." He laughed again, "Maybe you should try Wednesday."

Pubert didn't answer but raised an eyebrow and stared meaningfully at Pugsley.

After a moment, Pugsley said, "Ah." He immediately sobered up and became business-like, "Ok, so it is information you need, or a request?"

Pubert answered, "Well, in this case, I think it's a bit of both."

Down the hall, Wednesday Addams was seeking out information as well. Only, rather than confide in her brothers, she sought the assistance of the Internet.

The mystery of this new Joel Glicker gnawed at her. It was as if she'd swallowed a dozen snakes and they were now biting at her insides trying to rip their way out.

She dug under her bed for the last correspondence she'd had with Joel. A few weeks after she'd scared him to death in their cemetery, she'd received a letter from him stating that his parents were shipping him off to a boarding school on the West Coast and that they'd been keeping him from seeing her since their last encounter. He promised to think of her everyday and to write whenever he could. Wednesday got out the letter, not to reminisce, but because she was sure he'd written the name of the school on there.

Ah, there it was. "The Stockhaven School for Troubled Youth," she said the name aloud, tasting its bitterness on her tongue. "What a perfectly wretched name," she thought, imagining that being exposed to troubled youth might have changed Joel from the spineless wimp he was into the… well, into whatever he was now.

She typed into Google, "Stockhaven School," and using all of the hacking skills she'd developed over the years, hacked into the school's database, news archive, and other records, searching for any hint of what kind of school it was and what Joel's place was in it.

The first few hits brought up nothing of interest. She found blog entries from parents gushing about how the school changed their child's life, blah, blah, blah, and news reports of all of the school's good deeds within the community.

But then, stranger hits began to appear. About three years after Joel had begun attending the school, all the newspaper articles from around that time talked about strange happenings around the area. Three students from the school were found dead in a nearby river, an elderly couple near the school went missing, and, weirdest of all, shortly after the violence began, the school burned to the ground, killing 8 people - 7 students and a teacher.

At this point, Wednesday nearly fell out of her chair, because, listed among the dead was none other than Joel Glicker.

She printed out the page and then searched for any other hits for Joel Glicker. She remembered wondering why Joel's parents had left the area, but she'd been away at school at the time and when she came home, she just assumed they'd moved.

She found one small line in the obituary section of the local paper online that spoke of Joel Glicker's death, but that was all.

She turned her computer off with a 'humph.' Unfortunately, her fact-finding mission had left her with more questions than answers. She puzzled over what to do next.

She figured she had two options:

One, continue to ignore him, refuse to see him, and tell him to stay the hell away from her. Wednesday might enjoy pain and torture, but she was no fool, and she certainly wasn't one to put herself in danger, especially when that danger stemmed from being at the mercy of someone else. She marveled at her father and brother's ability to enjoy pain at the mercy of someone else; she hated being vulnerable.

She knew she took after her mother in that sense. Except, Morticia found pleasure in giving up her power to Gomez on occasion. Wednesday shuddered at the thought. She loved her father and mother, and knew beyond a doubt that they were perfect for each other, but she couldn't imagine giving up her power to anyone, even if she loved him.

She could do that, she thought. Just ignore him and tell him to piss off. Keep the power, stay safe – and it would hurt him, she imagined. That might be nice.

But then… she'd never know the answer to the mystery. He'd be gone, taking his secrets with him. He was definitely hiding something. Something big. Something dark. Dammit, she thought. Now he's suddenly interesting to her, intriguing even. Was it because he was so much stronger, darker, scarier? Or was it because he wasn't running away – he wasn't scared of her anymore?

Ha! She thought. She could _make_ him scared. There'd never been a person she couldn't scare away yet (save for her family, of course).

A little voice in her head whispered, _I don't know; he didn't seem very scared. This one is different…_

Yes, this one was different. Whether that was good or bad, Wednesday didn't know.

She pondered her second option - follow the rabbit-hole a little deeper, unravel the mystery. She immediately felt a yearning in her stomach, a burning desire. Not one to give in to impulse, she tried to say objective. Following the rabbit-hole could be dangerous. She stomach turned in knots as she remembered the sickening feeling of being pinned up against her car, helpless against his iron strength. It had been terrifying.

_But then again_, the little voice insisted, _he didn't actually hurt you. And his body…_

Wednesday cut off her own mind, refusing to indulge in sexual fantasy at a time like this. She sighed heavily and dropped her head in her hands. She felt utterly and completely trapped – and it was not a feeling she enjoyed. She was beyond annoyed with herself, sitting here, locked in her room, brooding over _some guy_ who had just showed up and thrown her whole outlook on life completely out of whack. She should be planning her next torture for her brothers or working out a good way to get Mr. Baker the biology teacher back for calling on her when her hand wasn't up that last day of class. But no! She realized suddenly that she was just like all of the ridiculous girls at her school whose whole lives revolved around one boy or another. The urge to vomit nearly overcame her, but she swallowed it down.

Dammit all, she thought, and she rose, heading for her door to rejoin her family and try to regain some semblance of the Wednesday who wasn't afraid of stupid boys.

Just as she reached her door and touched the handle, her phone rang.

She felt as though her blood had frozen in her veins. Without thinking, she raised her phone to her ear. She didn't speak.

"Care to take a walk with me tonight?" Joel's soft, raspy voice asked, seductively.

Wednesday didn't know what to say, which was good, considering that she found that she had no ability to move her mouth at all.

Joel's low voice chuckled softly. "Come now Wednesday, you're not doing well at all at pretending you're not afraid of me," he chided.

As her temper flared, she found she could speak. "It seems some of us are better at pretending than others." She paused. "I didn't receive an invitation."

Wednesday's statement was greeted with a long pause as Joel registered the meaning of her words. "I see," he said finally, a new emotion evident in his voice. Wednesday tried to place it – Resignation? Regret? She waited impatiently for his next words, hoping to pinpoint that emotion.

Finally, he said, "I guess you have a few questions for me." His voice was cold now, controlled.

She didn't answer.

He spoke again, "I'll be out behind Uncle Imar's tombstone at midnight tonight - Don't worry," he cut her off before she could protest, "I won't be seen."

Wednesday heard the phone click as he hung up.


	3. Dark Confessions

**Please Read and Review! Enjoy~**

**Part Three: Dark Confessions**

He waited in silence, bathed in moonlight. He marveled at the beauty of the evening, stars bright, the moon a beacon in the sky, and the soft rustling of nocturnal animals moving about in the trees. The shadows of the tombstones in the Addams' cemetery cast ghastly shadows in the moonlight and he felt for a moment a kinship with them, as his own shadow laid alongside theirs in the dying grass.

He didn't know if she'd come. He didn't know if he wanted her to. But he'd given up on being a coward years ago and he refused to give up the one thing he wanted in the world because of fear or pride. He waited.

She'd sat silently through dinner that evening, only vaguely noticing the concerned stares of her brothers. Their pathetic attempts at stealth should have made her laugh, but she found her mind too full of other thoughts. Her parents were oblivious, too busy staring deeply into each other's eyes to notice her absorption. She hadn't made up her mind.

She didn't know she was going to meet him until she found herself walking in the glow of the moonlight a little after 1 am. She'd laid down in bed at 11, determined to forget about Joel and his ridiculous power over her, but by 1 she found she could not keep her tossing and turning body in bed a moment longer.

So it was with irritation, intrigue, and awe that she wandered through the cemetery. She loved that cemetery. It warmed her heart in the way that some people feel when wandering through their childhood bedroom. It was a safe feeling. The glow of the moon gave everything a magical appearance. The light on her skin was so bright it almost felt like a physical presence – like she was dripping with moonlight. She stopped to look at the glittering glow off her pale skin.

A rustle somewhere nearby reminded her of her purpose and froze her in her tracks. She raised her eyes, searching for him. All she could make out was the glistening white of the tombstones and the foggy dark of their shadows on the ground.

Finally, slowly, one of the shadows moved, and Joel stepped out from behind Uncle Imar's tombstone. He was beautiful, she thought. He took her breath away. He was staring intently at her now, so she tried to appear cool, detached.

After a long moment, he moved slowly toward her, in measured steps as if to keep from scaring her. She registered that, but couldn't decide if she appreciated the gesture or not. Keeping her eyes on him, she moved over to a stone bench, sat, and motioned with her eyes that he should do the same.

He sat next to her, but not particularly close to her. She turned to face him, needing to see his expression as she asked her questions.

She stared deep into his eyes before speaking. "There was a fire," she said, simply. She caught a slight change in his focus – she'd caught him off guard – before he controlled his expression.

He looked down at his feet for a long moment before sighing and returning to her gaze. There was something new in his eyes – Shame? Resignation? She wasn't sure.

"Yes." He said finally. "I set it." He said this evenly, coolly, with no hint of regret or anger. He put her to mind of the face of an assassin, cold and deadly.

His answer should have surprised her, but she somehow felt that this new Joel might be capable of anything. She couldn't believe how much he'd changed. She felt a tiny pang of nostalgia for innocent, naïve boy she once knew.

"The kids who died?" She asked.

"Yea," he said, his head bowed, looking at his hands.

She'd asked just the questions he'd hoped she wouldn't. He was suddenly remembering that night.

Joel had stormed into the common room, ready for the fight of his life. They'd gone too far this time, and he was going to make them pay for what they did to her – his friend, his first and best friend since being left to rot at that horrible school.

He saw them there, the other six, already assembled. They turned their heads abruptly as he slammed the door behind him.

"HOW DARE YOU!" he screamed at them. "HOW COULD YOU! I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS! SHE HAS NOTHING TO DO THIS!" He began throwing chairs against the wall as he paced the room, drowning in his rage.

Before the others could speak, she entered from a side door. The door opened with a creak, so quiet compared to Joel's shouts, but it silenced him and turned everyone's attention to her.

She was tall, young for a teacher, or so she appeared, with long flowing golden locks, pouty lips, and piercing blue eyes. Their moderator. Hah. When Joel had joined this 'club' he'd had no idea what he was getting into. Now that he thought back, he couldn't remember what reason she had given him in the first place to entice him to join - just that she had sought him out one day, leaned in close, whispered something in his ear, and that he'd shown up.

He'd thought her beautiful once, but now he gazed upon her with disgust.

"How could you?" he repeated, softer.

Her laugh was musical. She entered the room with slow, languid movements, her piercing blue eyes seeming to melt into crystal pools as she held Joel's fierce stare. "Don't be foolish, Joel," she chimed, "she could not be allowed to live, not with what she knew."

Joel's face betrayed his confusion, "What are you talking about? What did she know? She didn't know anything! I never told her about anything!" His voice grew louder with each word.

Her liquid eyes solidified now and she stared him down, her beautiful face becoming fierce and deadly. "She _followed_ you here," she said, each word a dagger aimed at his heart. "She watched us through the window. I caught her at the end of last meeting." She twirled a strand of hair around her fingers, "And the other two, well, they were just in the way. I couldn't let them live carrying tales, you know." She smiled, remembering their feeble struggles, their delicious screams, and the intoxicating feeling she got in her stomach when they finally stopped kicking.

Joel's mouth dropped. He thought he'd known what these people were capable of. He'd known of their cruelty since they'd ruined his life and trapped him in this 'club,' but he'd naïvely thought that at least she was safe from it as long as he could keep her away.

And, for that reason alone, he knew that her death would always be on his hands.

He dropped his head, and turned away from the group, trying to think through the pain in his heart. Suddenly, it became clear. They may have taken away his past, but he'd be damned if he let them manipulate him and take away whatever future he could have. He stormed out.

In his memory he saw the blaze again. He'd waited until all of the other students had gone home for break, knowing that the 'club' would meet one more time, more than likely to plan how to punish him for his latest outburst. He saw them through the window before igniting the blaze and watching the how the whole building became enveloped in reds and oranges, flashes of yellow and white.

He didn't know if they survived or not. He figured it was more than likely at least some did, but the fire was the distraction he needed, and his ticket out of boarding school hell and out of conscription into a 'club' he never intended to join.

Joel's eyes cleared as he emerged from his memory, and he realized he'd never answered Wednesday's question about the kids that had died.

He looked her square in the face before answering, "Yea, but that came earlier." _Much earlier_, he thought to himself.

Wednesday's face became pensive now. Joel marveled at how she sat calmly beside him, hearing his dark confessions, but not pressing him for more information or running and screaming away, as he imagined she should. He knew she was frightened of him, at least a little bit. He knew she'd never admit it, but he was glad that she was, it proved she was human.

Joel looked down at his hands in his lap, unable to hold Wednesday's gaze any longer. He wanted to tell her how much she'd meant to him over the years, and how much it meant to him now, to have her sitting with him here on this moonlit bench, listening to his confessions. But, it wasn't that simple anymore. He wasn't just a boy, sitting with a girl in the shadow of a tombstone overlooking an empty grave. He could never be that, never again.

He looked up at her once more, sensing that she was waiting for his gaze before asking her next question. He was right. Wednesday had one final question for the evening. She wasn't sure how to word it, and she wasn't 100 percent sure she wanted to know the answer – it could open a whole can of worms she wasn't sure she was prepared for yet. But curiosity burned. She spoke, "So you faked your death." Her question came out more as a statement than a question.

Joel winced subtly and his eyes immediately dropped. After a moment, he took a deep breath, mustering his courage, it seemed, and brought his eyes back to Wednesday's. She nearly gasped. No longer cool and detached, they were open and vulnerable. He held her gaze for one long moment before whispering, "No. I died."


	4. The Dead and The Dying

**Ok, so this is truly a MEGA-CHAPTER, but it all needed saying. Forgive me that there is only a little bit of Wednesday in it. She'll get her say next.**

**Heed the rating ~ M ~ Not for the faint-hearted**

**That being said, Enjoy! Please Read and Review!**

**Part Four: The Dead and The Dying.**

She couldn't sleep. It was well after 4am now and Wednesday knew she wouldn't get an ounce of sleep this night. Her rendezvous with Joel had ended hours ago when he rose silently, brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, and disappeared into the darkness. She'd sat on the stone bench alone for what seemed like a minute after he left, but when she got back to her room, she found she'd been sitting there for at least an hour. Her body ached with fatigue and her eyes refused to stay open, but her mind raced on, trying to put the new pieces of her puzzle into place.

The pieces made several pictures, several scenarios to explain the mystery of Joel, but none of them completely satisfied Wednesday. She tried again, starting with the piece she felt was the most crucial.

He'd died. That's what he told her. Aside from the fact that she'd seen him alive and breathing, she couldn't make her mind write off this statement as a lie. His eyes; she couldn't rip the horrifying image of his open, tormented, eyes from her mind.

She felt a strange impulse when she remembered them – an impulse to protect this strange creature, an impulse she'd _never_ felt in her life. Self-preservation, sure, but protect someone else? Never. It gave her the creeps. She shook those eyes out of her mind.

One thing was sure though, those eyes didn't lie. And considering the horror she saw in them when he discussed his death, she couldn't even imagine what those eyes had seen. She guessed it wasn't white puffy clouds.

Ok, so _if_ Joel had died, what did that make him now? What did that mean for her?

Growing up under her mother's tutelage made Wednesday something of an expert on demonology and the occult. It was her mother's passion, but Wednesday had never been a huge fan of it. She saw it as a good place to draw sadistic ideas from, but nothing more. She wasn't even sure if she really believed that things like demons, or conversely, angels, even existed. But she knew if she wanted answers about what can _die_ but not be _dead_, there was only one person to ask. She groaned internally. Her mother was _way_ too observant, so she'd have to go about this carefully if she wanted to avoid her mother knowing it was about a boy, let alone _this_ boy. She sighed. _Dammit_, she thought. _Dammit all_.

Across town, Joel was thinking pretty much the same thing. He'd been up, like Wednesday, since their encounter and was mulling over the consequences of the information he'd revealed tonight.

He hadn't seen Wednesday in years, and then he suddenly shows up, looking completely different, acting completely different, and carrying around all of these dark, dangerous secrets. How would she respond to him? How should she?

He growled against his annoyance. Why was he doing this? He hadn't seen or heard from the girl in six years. She could be a totally different person now.

She certainly looked it. Well, he admitted to himself, not _totally _different. She still dressed in black, and that last day of school she'd had her hair in those black braids she used to love. But tonight she'd worn her hair down. Maybe the difference had been in her face. She looked older, more beautiful than cute (if Wednesday could ever have been called cute). Her heart-shaped face was still pale and her dark eyes burned in his memory, but her expressions – maybe that was it, the stoic mask that she'd worn so well as a child had slipped a bit. Her features now formed into expressions. She'd been angry when he'd pinned her against the car, and frightened. He'd noticed how her face became searching as she monitored his face while he spoke. He'd even seen how her burning eyes had seemed to melt a little when he'd spoken of his death. She _felt_. The Wednesday he remembered may have _felt_, but she sure as Hell didn't show it. He smiled at the memory.

However much she'd changed, he had to believe that there was still some piece of her that was _his_ Wednesday, his first friend, his first love. He only hoped that she'd be able to find _her_ Joel underneath whatever he'd become. He sent up a silent prayer that there still was piece of the Joel he used to be left for her to find.

As morning broke, he fell into a fitful sleep.

And he dreamed, as he often did, of the night that he died.

It was not the night of the fire, as he supposed Wednesday must think, but months earlier.

He saw himself, not quite as scrawny as he was at 12, but certainly not muscular, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, glasses askew, waiting nervously outside of her office. Dr. Lillian Stone, she went by, but he'd discovered her true name later.

It was evening, past curfew, but this was the time she'd said the club met. She'd even given him a signed pass. He waited. The school seemed creepy to him, after dark. They'd only left on about half of the lights, so patches of light and dark alternated down the long hallways. One old bulb overhead flickered and buzzed, putting Joel to mind of an old slasher movie he'd seen. He imagined Jason, or someone, was waiting in one of the dark patches, ready to spring.

Just as he had nearly decided to screw it and go to bed, the door swung inward, and he was bathed in light. "Come in Joel," he heard his name in the enchanting voice of Dr. Lillian.

Moving stiffly, he entered and was soon encircled by six other students and Dr. Lillian. They'd placed a single chair in the middle of the room and he was invited to sit. He remembered thinking this was a strange way to welcome a new member to a club, but before he could really think on it, his attention was diverted as she spoke again.

"Dear Joel, welcome to our little club," she crooned, stepping inside the circle of students and coming closer to Joel.

"Th-th-thank you," Joel had stuttered, "but I don't really know what type of club this is." His anxiety was beginning to punch through, and he was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

She laughed; it was an enchanting sound. Joel remembered smiling unintentionally when she laughed. "Don't worry, Joel. This is a special club, so special, in fact, that we chose you specifically for the last opening."

Joel was skeptical now. No one chose _him_ specifically. "M-m-me?" he'd managed.

"Why yes," she continued. "You see we are a collective – like minds, like hearts, working toward a common goal." She stared at him intently now, "I believe you have just the kind of mind and heart that we need. You see, Joel," she began circling him, "we desire to _change the world_! To fix it!" she appeared suddenly at his ear and whispered inches from his skin, "to make it better. Isn't that what _you_ want Joel?" she crooned.

Her voice was like a song, like a snare. He found he couldn't resist her, couldn't help but agree with whatever she said, so he nodded.

She smiled. "I knew it," she crooned, "I knew you were the right boy." She stood and faced the others. "Group, welcome Joel into our club."

"Welcome, Joel," they replied in unison.

"Um, thanks," Joel had murmured. He moved to get down off the chair, but she blocked him.

"Uh huh! We're not done," she chided. "First you must drink from the ceremonial cup!" With a snap of her fingers, one of the other students brought a chalice to her.

"What… what is this?" Joel asked.

"Red wine," she answered, "A nice merlot, actually."

Feeling the pressure of the eyes on him, Joel gathered his courage and took a small sip from the chalice.

Immediately, several sensations hit him at once. He tasted the wine and was not a fan. Not only did it have the dry flavor of merlot, it had an added rusty taste that he couldn't place. He considered spitting it out but decided that would be rude. He also tasted something sweet, cloying, almost like Novocain, that didn't seem to fit with the bitter-rusty taste of the wine. And then, out of nowhere, he stopped thinking about the flavor because he found that the entire room was spinning.

Wait, he'd thought, maybe it's just that the students are spinning around me. And, well, they were. And chanting. But Joel soon found that he couldn't concentrate on the spinning or foggy sounds of the chant. He felt adrift, weightless, foggy, and confused, but then – he heard her voice.

It was as if she was inside of his head; he heard her voice so clearly. It was so sweet, unbearably sweet, like a sigh. She called to him, "Joel, Joel come back to me dear."

He found he could focus now, but only on her voice, his vision was still a nauseating blur. "Here I am," he'd said, slurring his words slightly.

"Joel, I need you to do me a favor, will you do that, Joel?" she'd crooned. He nodded. "Good boy. Now, I've put something in your hand, do you feel it?"

He felt it. It was hard and cold, like a handle. He turned his eyes down to get a look at it, and although it was blurry, he was pretty sure it was a dagger.

"A dagger?" he'd said.

She'd laughed, and it was the sound of tinkling bells. "Not a dagger, silly," she giggled, "it's a marker, and all I want you to do is draw a nice straight line up your arm. Can you do that?"

"A line?" he muttered, "up my arm? Why?"

Her singing voice became a little bit harsh now, "Initiation," she said. She bit the end of the word as if she couldn't continue in that sweet voice.

He felt her cool hand on his hand as she brought the blade against the skin of his left wrist. Comprehension was breaking through and he was about to throw the blade away, when she plunged the tip into his skin. He felt the pain, but only distantly. All he could really feel was her hand on his hand, and all he could hear was her crooning voice, "Draw, Joel. You can do it. You want to do it, you want to join, don't you?"

Every second that he resisted pulling the blood-soaked blade up the inside of his arm he felt a terrible, burning pain in his head, radiating down his spine. He knew he shouldn't pull the blade. In some far off corner of his mind he knew that he was loosing too much blood. But every time he pulled, the burning stopped and every time he resisted, the burning intensified.

When he'd reached the crook of his elbow, she'd stopped him. "Good boy, Joel, that's enough." He felt heavy, immobile, paralyzed.

When she said 'enough,' the fog cleared and Joel looked down to see his bloodied arm, the blood pooling down the chair and covering the floor at his feet. He nearly puked at the sight, but he was startled out of his nausea by the look on Dr. Lillian's face. Her cold face was animated now and her blue eyes burned bright red.

He gasped when he saw her. She smiled. "Oh, I _love_ that part." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the moment. "The moment they realize, the moment that true fear sets in. It's intoxicating." She turned her head to the others, "Don't you think?"

Joel turned to look at the others now, and, with a fear that turned his blood to ice, he noticed that all of their eyes burned red and their faces were alive with hunger. With thirst.

She lifted his bleeding arm, and in gesture that reminded him sickly how one might offer a drink to a friend, she passed it over to them. He watched in horror as six mouths bent to his arm. He felt the softness of six lips on his skin and then heard with disgust the slurping sound as they sucked his blood from his gushing wound. He turned his head away, unable to watch anymore, and met her eyes.

She was standing in front of him, towering over his chair, watching her pets with immense satisfaction. Her eyes were alight with what he would come to know as thirst, and she leaned over him.

She brought her face right up against his, her cheek touching his, and she whispered into his ear, "I am Lilith, and I claim you."

Then with a fearsome suddenness, she gripped the left side of his face and plunged her teeth into the skin on the right side of his neck. He felt a sudden thrill at being touched so fiercely, and the feel of her lips on his neck tightened the muscles in his stomach. But as she bit, and clung, and drank, he felt his body revolt against the invasion. He bucked in his chair, tried to wrench his arm from the students, and, with his free arm, push Lilith off of him, but their grips were inhuman. He couldn't budge.

And then he was drowning, drowning in pain as his muscles and lungs ached for the blood they were not receiving, drowning in fog as unconsciousness struggled to claim him.

Suddenly, her hold on him loosened and he heard her in his ear again.

"Drink," she commanded. He tried to open his eyes to see what she wanted him to drink, but he found he couldn't move at all. She wiped something wet against his lips and he shied away. He didn't know what it was at first, but it had that same rusty taste as the wine.

"Drink," she commanded again, "Drink and live." This time she laid her whole wrist against his mouth, and he realized what the rust flavor was, it was her blood, dripping out of her own opened vein. The urge to vomit almost overcame him, but she continued to press her wrist against his mouth, forcing the blood down his throat. Whatever bit of consciousness he'd had slipped away, and he felt himself falling, falling into himself, falling into darkness.

The heat, he'd never forget that heat. And the wind. And the bodies, the mangled bodies, and the beasts that chewed on the rotting flesh of the still moving bodies. And ­–

Joel awoke with a start, in his own bed in the dingy motel he'd been calling home since he returned to this dump of town. Panting and gasping for air, he struggled to shake off the final remnants of his dream that had not been a dream, but a memory.

He dropped his head into his hands and curled up in a little ball on the bed, trying to regain some composure and push the images from his dream out of his head. It was then that he felt her presence.

No, not really her. Just her spirit. He lifted his eyes, searching the room until he saw her transparent form standing in the darkest corner.

"Lilith," he said.

"Ah, my dear boy, I'm so pleased to hear you haven't forgotten me over these past three years," she crooned.

"What's three years to someone of your years?" Joel mumbled.

She giggled, "You're quite right. Three years is but a finger's snap for me, but young men are always so quick to move on," she mused.

Joel was tired of the charade. "What do you want, Lilith? How did you find me?"

"Joel, Joel, Joel," she chided, "so impetuous, never enjoying the sport, just jumping to the finish." Her voice became dangerous now, "We have some unfinished business, Joel, you know that. I gave you your space, but the time is come. You didn't think I'd move on and forget about you, did you?"

"A man can hope," he muttered to himself. Her form floated across the room until it was inches from his bed.

"And why would I do that? After I put some much time and effort into you." She shook her head, "I chose you. I claimed you. I made you." She brought her face up against his, "You are mine."

Joel got up and put the distance of the room between them. "I'm no one's," he said, crossing his arms.

Lilith became abruptly irritated with the conversation. She snapped out, "The time of the gathering is near, and by the full moon, you will return to me and take your place among the seven."

He turned his back on her before answering, "And if I don't?"

She hissed and Joel felt an unbearable pain in his heart. It brought tears to his eyes and he fell to his knees, clutching his chest.

"I claim you. I _own_ you. When I brought your soul back from Hell you didn't believe I gave it all back to you, did you?" she cackled.

Joel turned horror-stricken eyes on her.

"How did I find you? I followed the pull of your soul. It will always lead me directly back to you." She floated across the room and was inches from him again. He didn't have the strength to move away.

"You're inside me now, Joel," she whispered. "Just like I am inside you." She caressed his cheek with a transparent hand. She giggled, "And you thought I had influence over you before you died."

She rose now, and spoke, business-like, "You _will_ come to me before the full moon. Or else, _I_ will come to you." She blew him a kiss, and turned as if to leave.

Pausing, she added, "_If _I have to come for you, I may need to find some reason to make the journey worthwhile. That girl you've been seeing…"

Joel shot to his feet, his hands balling up into fists.

Lilith faced him again, "She's pretty. Pale, like the moon. I can only imagine what she _tastes_ like…" As she disappeared, he heard her giggling to herself. The sound lingered in his room long after the vision was gone.

Joel fell to his knees again, and threw his fists, hard, against the floor, cracking the linoleum.


	5. The Invitation

**Part Five: The Invitation**

Morticia gazed at the distracted face of her only daughter. It'd been years since Wednesday had come to her mother for advice, so it had taken her by surprise to hear a knock at her bedroom door early that morning.

Morticia smiled, remembering how Wednesday's intrusion had irritated Gomez, who'd been counting on enjoying the dismal morning in bed with his wife. She remembered his face, deceptively calm, and his smile, forced a little too severely to be genuine, as he wished his daughter good morning and watched his wife slink and sway her way out of their room, heading downstairs to have a private breakfast with Wednesday. Morticia knew it was rotten to tease her husband so, but she knew well that a little pain always sweetened pleasure, and that her husband, in particular, thoroughly enjoyed both.

Shaking herself from her reverie, she returned her attention to Wednesday. She'd hardly spoken since she'd asked her mother for advice and breakfast, and, while Morticia had intended to let the girl think and assemble her thoughts, she now grew impatient.

"Wednesday, dear," Morticia said, "What do you need to ask me?"

Wednesday turned her eyes to her mother. Morticia saw they were wider than usual and a little glazed over, as if the girl hadn't slept. Concern creased her forehead – Wednesday had never worn a bewildered look in her life, and this morning she looked utterly disturbed.

Wednesday was trying to find the best way to word her questions for her mother so as to not arouse suspicion, but when she saw her mother's concerned face, she knew her expression had already given her away. She sighed heavily.

"Mother," Wednesday began, "I need some help, some clarification on matters potentially demonic in nature," she finished formally.

Morticia's eyes narrowed. She suspected Wednesday's need for advice had a much more mundane cause, but she played along – mostly.

"Demonic?" Morticia raised an eyebrow. "Why the sudden interest in the supernatural, daughter? I was under the impression you did not believe in such things?"

Wednesday fidgeted in her chair. She answered grudgingly, "Well, I may have come across someone, I mean, something, that has suggested otherwise."

Morticia smiled, so it was a boy then. Having understood, she said, "Very well, what is your question?"

Wednesday held her mother's gaze before speaking, "What can die and yet not be dead?" she paused, "What are the possibilities?"

Morticia pondered momentarily and then shimmied to a nearby shelf in the adjacent library. Carrying a large volume, she returned to the small breakfast table. The book landed with a 'thud' and spewed huge quantities of dust over the table. Ruffling through pages, Morticia finally came to stop and muttered, "Ah yes."

She looked at Wednesday pensively. "I can think of three possibilities, though there may be more. Perhaps you could describe this someone, I mean, something to me and I could tell you which it is."

Wednesday squirmed. "Perhaps you could outline the three options instead?"

Morticia's eyes twinkled; she'd taught her daughter well.

"Very well." Morticia looked down at the book and then met her daughter's eyes again. "Well, I'm quite sure it's not the first option. I doubt you'd have any trouble discerning a zombie if you saw one."

"A zombie?" Wednesday asked skeptically.

"Well, yes. But then again, they truly _are_ dead. Just reanimated corpses wandering around under the spell of a magician or witch."

Just then Mama tottered through the room. Morticia added, "If I remember rightly, Mama was once quite fond of them. Right Mama?"

Mama looked up, confused. "Fond of what, dear?"

"Zombies," Morticia answered.

Mama cackled. "Oh yes! The dear things. I made one for my sister when we were younger. Oh she had a ball with it, until the thing broke her neck and started eating her hair. Ah, those were the days!" Mama continued out of the room, giggling and talking to herself about the old days.

Wednesday smirked at Mama's story, but sobered up, still hoping to learn what Joel had become.

Morticia continued, "The other two options are similar in some ways, but different in others. The first, the demon, is composed of an evil soul or spirit that can move about on earth by possessing a body, either currently inhabited or recently vacated. The second, the vampire, is composed of a soul whose body has been poisoned and made into something evil. In the case of the vampire, the body is poisoned and seems to die, and so ejects the soul. But, the sire pulls the soul back into the poisoned body, back into life. So what _died_ ceases to be _dead_.

So, in a strange sense, they are opposites, though they may appear similar."

Wednesday was deep in thought, trying to put the pieces together in her mind.

Morticia could practically hear the wheels turning in Wednesday's head, and impatience at learning the motivation behind Wednesday's question was driving her mad. Finally, she asked, "Wednesday, who is it?"

Morticia's question startled Wednesday, so when she looked up, she forgot to censor her expression. As it was, Morticia saw the answer she needed all over Wednesday's face.

"It's love," she thought. "Wednesday's in love." Morticia gasped. And then smiled.

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, a perfect imitation of her mother. "It's not what you think," she said.

Morticia shrugged and rose to leave. Over her shoulder, she added, "Invite him over for dinner sometime, I should like to meet him."

Wednesday scowled at her mother's retreating form. _Dammit,_ she thought. Closing her eyes, she sighed heavily. Returning to the matter at hand, she redirected her attention to the book her mother had left open on the table. Though she didn't really need to double check, she read and reread the passages on the difference between a demon and a vampire. She didn't need to check, she already knew what Joel had become as soon as her mother had said it, but she checked anyway – stalling time before she had to decide what this information meant for her.

Meanwhile, across town, Joel woke with a start when he heard knocking at his door. Lifting his head from his pillow, he managed, "No housekeeping, thank you," before fatigue dropped his head back into the downy billows.

After a pause, the knocking began again. Joel had just about decided to ignore it and let the knocker piss off, but then a strange, vague feeling reached him. Less than a scent, less than a premonition, but perhaps a mixture of the two, a strange impulse, like déjà vu, overcame him and – growling – he climbed out of bed to open the door.

The impulse grew stronger as he approached the door. He quested out with his senses. He smelled a hint of adrenaline and testosterone. The scent of his visitors was unfamiliar, but, with a smile, he noticed some familiar elements. Scents of poison oak, henbane, mold, earth, and dust reached him and he suddenly knew the identities of his visitors. So it was with a half-smile that he opened the door and gazed into the fierce and determined faces of Pugsley and Pubert.

"Hey guys," Joel said, choking back a laugh as Pugsley and Pubert's jaws dropped in unison. He waited for them to regain composure.

Pugsley was the first to recover, "Joel?" he asked, astonished.

"Yea, hey Pugsley," Joel said delicately, "It's me."

Pubert, looking betrayed, turned on his brother, "You _know_ this guy?"

Pugsley never took his eyes off Joel, but answered, "Yea, but it was years ago."

Joel felt awkward under Pugsley and Pubert's scrutiny, so he asked, "Um, do you guys wanna come in?"

Pugsley stared, but Pubert spoke, "Yes, Mr. _Joel_, or whoever you are, we need to speak with you." Head held high, Pubert marched past Joel into the motel room.

Joel smirked, and clapped Pugsley on the shoulder, effectively breaking his trance and ushering him into the room.

Unused to having guests, Joel paced his room awkwardly, picking up and throwing clothing into the corners of the room and clearing off chairs for his guests. Once they were seated, Joel sat on the edge of his bed, and said, "So, what's up guys? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but judging by your surprised faces, I'm guessing you weren't expecting to see me here."

Pubert began, "We were tracking down the _person_ who has been badgering our sister with unwanted phone calls." Pubert crossed his arms across his chest and stared at Joel, daring him to contradict.

Much to Pubert's annoyance, Joel laughed. "Yea," he said between chuckles, "that'd be me." He sobered up, "Did Wednesday complain about me?"

At Pubert and Pugsley's guilty looks, Joel understood, "Ha, no, she wouldn't have. Well, I'm impressed. How did you find me?"

Pubert, looking extremely proud of himself, explained, "Actually it was too easy. We simply got your number off Wednesday's phone, and Pugsley drew up a program to trace your phone's signal, and Voila! Here we are," Pubert ended with a flourish.

Joel's eyes strayed to Pugsley who was still sitting as if shell-shocked. "Pugsley?" Joel asked. "You alright?"

Instead of answering, Pugsley turned to Pubert, "Hey, do me a favor, okay kid? Go down and check the meter by the car. I think I put too much money in." He threw the keys to Pubert, "Go ahead and move the car to an expired one. See if you can scratch a few cars in the process. I'll be down in a minute."

Pubert raised one eyebrow. He knew Pugsley was just trying to get rid of him, but he was placated by the chance to drive the car. Pubert _loved_ driving. Especially when he could scratch other cars. He left, nearly skipping the whole way.

Once they were alone, Pugsley turned his eyes on Joel. No longer shell-shocked, Pugsley looked calculating, accusing even. He leaned forward in his chair and leaned his muscular arms on his knees.

Joel tried to play it cool, "What's up Pugsley? You look like you've seen a ghost or something," Joel smirked.

Pugsley's eyes widened fractionally. "Well, now that you mention it, Joel. I've been thinking the same thing. Last time I checked," he paused, "you were dead."

Joel closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he forced a smile, "Dead, huh? That's –"

Pugsley cut him off. "What're you doing here, Joel? What do you want with Wednesday?" His voice wasn't accusing, just cold and perhaps a little sad.

His question and his voice caught Joel off guard, and so, he answered honestly, "I don't know." He dropped his head into his hands. "It's like I can't stay away. It was reckless to come back, I know, but I've been dreaming of coming back since I was sent away, and now…" he looked up and sighed, "well, now I'll be damned if I waste time dreaming when I should be living."

The two men sat in silence for a moment. Finally, Pugsley seemed to thaw a little, "Fair enough," he said. He managed a tiny, wicked-looking smile, "Bet Wednesday freaked when she saw you, huh?" He chuckled.

Joel grinned a little too, "Yea, a bit. But, to be honest, I was playing it up a bit." He smiled outright, "She'll never admit it though."

Pugsley smiled in response. "I gotta say man, I mean it's a good look, but I never thought I'd see you looking so… grim. That must have been one Hell of a school out there."

To this, Joel did not smile, "Yea. You could say that."

Pugsley nodded to himself, as if confirming a theory in his head.

With a sigh, Pugsley rose and extended his hand to Joel. "Well, I'd better get going. It was good to see you again Joel. Come on by for dinner or something."

Joel rose also and clasped Pugsley's hand. Pugsley gaze down at their hands, feeling Joel's hard, muscular grip, and noticed a long, deep scar up the inside of Joel's left arm as it hung loosely at his side. In his haste to open the door, Joel had forgotten to cover his arms. Pugsley met Joel's eyes again before breaking the handshake and heading for the door.

In the doorway, he turned back, a smile on his face, "Oh, by the way, let's keep this little meeting between us – if Wednesday finds out we were here, she'll cut me to pieces." His face sobered up a bit, "Literally."

Joel smiled, "No problem. See you later Pugsley."

As Pugsley disappeared down the hall, Joel climbed back into bed, wondering what this new development might mean.


	6. Thirst for Life

**Just Joel in this chapter. Careful, it gets a little explicit, a little bloody. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it ~ Please Review.**

**Don't forget, I don't own the Addams Family, Not even Joel even, though I've changed him beyond recognition!**

**Enjoy~ TLD**

**Part Six: Thirst for Life**

Joel perched silently, motionlessly in the deep shade of the overgrown woods. His motorcycle leaned against an oak on the edge of the forest, awaiting his return. He'd chose this strip of forest because it had been left untouched by the construction companies that lived to gobble up every bit of flat land in this sprawling suburban desert, and as such, it stretched on for at least a mile in all directions. Private. He liked that.

He'd felt the hunger growing in him all week. The hunger that couldn't be satisfied by normal food, or even donated packets of blood – had he been so inclined. It wasn't the substance he craved. It was the hunt.

Every muscle in his body ached for the hunt. His senses worked on overdrive, trying to catch a hint of that pulsing adrenaline of fleeing prey, trying to hear that tiny pitter-patter of a racing heart, aching to taste that first burst of hot blood on his parched tongue. So he'd come here to this forsaken land. It was teeming with life.

Just not human life.

Unlike his compatriots, Joel avoided drinking human blood – even donated blood, which, of course lacked the depth and richness of blood drawn fresh. He supposed it was a moral choice. He'd never been particularly religious growing up. But, then again, a stint (however short) in Hell can really change a man. He didn't know if it were possible, but he was going to do whatever he could in this life to try and keep himself out of there, should him immortality be cut short.

He'd tasted human blood once. Shortly after rejoining his newly changed body, his new 'family' had taken him hunting. Mad with hunger and with fear and disgust left over from all he'd seen below, Joel was far from rational at the time. So it was with a sickened joy that he was free of the fires and with a complete inability to control the new urges of his changed body that Joel had stalked through the house of the elderly couple living a few doors down from school.

Lilith and the others stood around the outside of the house to prevent escape, as if that'd been necessary. The inhabitants were well into their 60s, and less than spry. Perhaps that is why Lilith that thought them a good first meal.

Joel was silent as he crept through their house, allowing instinct to draw him forward. He came across the woman first. Within seconds he was upon her. She'd barely uttered a squeak as his teeth closed around the pulsing artery in her neck.

He'd almost moaned allowed as the first splash of warm, fragrant blood pulsed into his mouth. It was as if he'd been parched beyond compare and had suddenly tasted water for the first time. It was miraculous.

Suddenly, the experience changed. He was so startled that he nearly dropped his half-drained prey. Instinct kept him clinging. Flickers of images raced before his eyes. He saw a small girl racing after her father as he left, briefcase in hand, for work. He saw her smiling over a birthday cake, clasping hands with a boy at prom, standing before an altar, holding a baby… The images flashed faster and faster. And along with them came feelings, joy, fear, sadness, love, hope, love, love, love. This woman's entire life coursed through Joel, coloring the flavor of her blood.

With a last shuddering 'thump' the woman's heart stopped and the images and feelings ceased. Joel lowered her gently to the floor, stunned at what he'd just experienced. After so much fear and pain, the strong, undiluted love in this woman's life shocked him.

He looked down at his hands, suddenly gaining enough comprehension to understand what he'd just done. His body felt giddy, joyous, drunk almost, on the woman's life, but his mind, his heart, felt confused, conflicted. What was he doing?

His reverie was interrupted as the man walked in the room to check on his wife. Seeing Joel standing over her blood-stained body, her blood dripping from his mouth, the man shouted out, "He-"

He didn't finish the word before Joel's instincts took over and he silenced the man with a quick snap of the neck. As the man's body slumped to the floor, Joel turned to leave, catching his reflection in the mirror.

A new face, a dark, demonic face stared at him with blood red eyes.

Since then, he contented himself with the blood of animals. Their lives, as they flashed through Joel, were not as full of emotions and experiences as a human's, and were thus not as flavorful, but he found them interesting and satisfying all the same – and without the emotional baggage.

His favorite were birds of prey. While small, they provided an exciting and challenging hunt and provided amazing visual memories of their lives. He knew what it was like to fly as a hawk, kestrel, osprey, owl, an eagle, and a falcon. The only downside was that it always took more than one to sate his thirst.

So far today, he hadn't seen a single bird of prey.

Still motionless, he heard the far off pounding of many clawed feet. It was dusk now, so it was time for the hunters to come out. He stalked off in search of the pounding feet, waiting until his sense of smell would catch up with his hearing and give him the exact location of this pack of wolves.

Ah ha! There, he caught the smell. Racing forward with inhuman speed, Joel closed the 500 feet between him and his prey in seconds. Once within sight, he froze before creeping closer slowly, not wanting to alarm his prey.

At once, the alpha male looked up, scenting the intruder into their clearing. With a sharp growl, the alpha signaled the pack, and suddenly, Joel found himself surrounded.

He rose from his crouch, extending himself to his full height, and smirked at the circling beasts. He admired their attitude. They saw him as dinner. He felt a small wave of pity for them – they'd never encountered anyone like himself before, how could they know that they were, in fact, _his_ dinner?

He waited, tensing for the spring, feeling his body react with glee as it anticipated the coming brawl. He hadn't been in a fight in a while; his body was pumped for it. Shutting off his mind, he allowed the beast within him to take over, and suddenly a threatening growl ripped up his throat – an answer to the growls all around him.

On some unseen signal, the wolves pounced in unison on Joel. Growling and tearing and biting and yelping filled the clearing until Joel was left alone, drinking the final drops of blood from the fallen alpha. Bodies of similarly killed wolves lay scattered at his feet.

Joel wiped the blood from his lips and inspected the damage done to his person. A few cuts and scrapes decorated his arms and neck, and one deep bite into his thigh bled profusely. _Damn_, he thought, _I missed that one_. Ripping his clothing and wrapping his thigh to staunch the bleeding, Joel made his way, decidedly more slowly, back to his bike, reveling in the beautiful memories of the wolves.


	7. Turning Point

**The moment of truth. Well one of them anyway. Please Read and Review!**

**Disclaimed: I don't own anything. **

**Enjoy!**

**Part Seven: Turning Point**

She'd decided to call him and cancel. No, wait. Nevermind. Yes, dammit, she'd decided to call. Wednesday paced in her room, one way toward the phone, and the other away from it. She was like a pendulum, counting down the hours until his eminent arrival for a dinner date, no less. She'd called earlier, goaded into it by her mother, and invited him over around 7 for dinner. It was now 5:30 and she was seriously toying with the idea of cancelling.

One half of her brain screamed, "STUPID! You _know_ what he _is!_ What are you thinking?" While the other half whispered, "but…"

Even in her own mind, her defense against logic was pathetically feeble. She couldn't even latch on to her previous excuse – figuring out the mystery. She'd figured it out. True, she hadn't heard it from him, but still, it wasn't like she _needed_ him to confirm it. "Then why?" She asked herself, "Why do I still want him to come?"

She felt a strange warming of her cheeks and moved to check her reflection in the mirror. Was she, perhaps, coming down with something? She'd never been sick before. But there she was, staring into her reflection, gazing with horror as a slight blush reddened her cheeks at the thought of Joel.

"Stupid," she said aloud.

Meanwhile, Joel was thinking just about the same thing. He hadn't been inside the Addams' mansion since he was 13. He felt excitement that was quickly doused with fear as he contemplated what the Addams clan would think of him now.

Judging by Pugsley's reaction to him, Joel figured it wouldn't take the Addams' much time to realize what happened to him and what he'd become. He tried to imagine their reaction to that. Morticia, hmm, well, Joel imagined Morticia would probably be very pleased to meet a vampire. He laughed; she was delightfully dark. Gomez, hmm, Joel imagined that he'd likely be pleased to meet a vampire too – unless of course that vampire was at his house on a date with his daughter. Joel shuddered. Ok, that might be rough.

Interestingly, the Addams Joel was most worried about winning over was Wednesday. He knew they had a connection, and given how clever Wednesday was, he was pretty sure she'd figured out by now what he'd become. The fact that she'd invited him over despite that, well – he could only guess at what that might mean. He hoped it meant she felt for him as he did for her, but with Wednesday, it could mean anything. He tried to subdue hope and squash fear so that when he knocked on the Addams' door, his face looked untroubled by either.

He rang the bell and was soon staring up into the familiar face of Lurch. He smiled, "Hey there, Lurch."

Lurch backed into the door and beckoned, "Follow me," in his gravelly voice. Joel wasn't wearing a hat, but he passed over his motorcycle helmet to Lurch for safekeeping. He didn't really need the helmet for safety – his reflexes made him an excellent driver, but the tinting on the helmet and his assortment of leather riding clothes – gloves, jacket, pants, and boots – kept the sun off of him if he ever ventured out before true dusk and kept him from getting scorched. For tonight, he'd dispensed with the leather gear and opted for a lighter ensemble of black jeans, black long sleeve tee-shirt and charcoal grey blazer. He ran his fingers through his hair as they walked to the parlor, hoping to dispel any remnants of helmet-hair he might still have.

She was waiting for him in the parlor.

Morticia stood impassively, her arms crossed around her chest and her weight leaned slightly onto one hip. She stared deeply into Joel's eyes as he stepped into the room.

He stared back, awed by her presence. She was beautiful, not in the way of Lilith, who was all light – hiding the darkness of her true self. Instead, Morticia was all darkness, but her inner light shone through her piercing eyes and an impassive face, making her look like the sun behind an eclipse.

She neither moved, nor spoke. She only stared.

Joel found himself caught in that stare. Her eyes were so deep, so knowledgeable. They cut right to the essence of things, right to center of a man. Immediately he knew that this woman had lived – really _lived_. She'd experienced great joy, great loss, great love, towering bliss and unendurable agony. Joel felt his insides writhe in desire. He could only imagine what such an existence might taste like. His mouth watered, and he fought back a low moan as his body craved the sights and sounds and feelings of Morticia's life, and the rich, multifaceted taste they'd create on his tongue. His muscles tensed, wanting to grasp her thin form in his arms, and his sense began to range out, searching for danger and planning his attack.

Joel felt his eyes start to warm, and he was suddenly jolted back to his senses.

He dropped his head in shame, hiding his reddening eyes from Morticia. He clenched his fists behind his back, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, calming his body and taking back control over his urges. When he was sure he was calm, he raised his eyes to Morticia's again.

Her expression softened slightly as she held his gaze again. A tiny, warm smiled appeared on her ruby lips. She uncrossed her arms and said, "Joel. Welcome."

She approached him, and, embracing him very softly, she added, "Such control. You have such control for one so young."

She stepped back. Dropping his head again, Joel spoke in a deadened monotone, "I may no longer be a man, but I will not consent to live as a beast."

Morticia laid one hand under Joel's chin, and, raising his eyes to hers again, she said, "And so you will not." She dropped her hand and gestured to the rest of the parlor, "Please, come in. You are very welcome. Wednesday will be down shortly. And I do believe Mr. Addams is around here somewhere. Gomez?" she called.

Shaking off the close call of his encounter with Mrs. Addams, Joel scanned the familiar parlor, wandering aimlessly between the statue of the samurai warrior, the two-headed turtle, the giant taxidermy bear, and the piranha tank. As he moved, Joel wondered if Mrs. Addams meeting him alone in the parlor had been some type of a test. He shuddered at what might have happened and then again at the thought that she'd put herself in that kind of danger for her daughter's sake… _But then again,_ a small voice in Joel's head added, _perhaps the test was for your sake_.

Joel shook himself from his pondering and melancholy and tried to focus on the matter at hand. Mr. Addams had just entered the parlor in his half-reckless half-dignified manner.

"Ah, Joel, old chap, it's good to see you. How've you been?" Gomez asked.

"Oh, I'm fine. It's good to see you too, Mr. Addams. Been a long time." Joel answered, conventionally. He was slightly uncomfortable in the presence of Wednesday's father – as any well-intentioned young man should be.

Gomez turned to his wife, "Querida, do you mind if I steal away young Joel here for a few moments while we wait for Wednesday and the boys to come down for dinner? I want to show him my new foils." Gomez smiled his equally charming and wicked smile, and Morticia rolled her eyes as if to say, "if you must."

Instead she said aloud, "As you wish, dear, but don't tarry. The children will be along shortly."

"Excellent!" Gomez exclaimed. He clapped Joel on the shoulder and ushered him into the library, saying, "You'll love this, my boy.

Dinner with the Addams' family is a rowdy affair. Pugsley and Pubert attempt to shave off each other's eyebrows by throwing steak knives across the table at one another. Mama got into a heated discussion with Gomez about who had been the greatest serial killer in history. Gomez argued passionately for Jack the Ripper, while Mama reminisced about the time she met Charles Manson. Joel and Wednesday ate quietly, sitting across from each other between the knife throwing brothers and the arguing pair. Morticia sat at the head of the table.

Every so often, Joel would lift his head out of Mama's Arsenic and Apricot Compote Soup to find Wednesday staring at him. She would quickly turn her head away or return to her own soup. Joel smiled to himself.

She hadn't said much since he'd arrived. After his chat and spar with Mr. Addams, Joel had returned to the parlor with a few minor scratches and a smile of his face. Gomez returned similarly, with fewer scratches perhaps, but smiling. Leave it to men to settle matters over physical exertion and armed confrontation.

Wednesday had been waiting in the parlor, almost the spitting image of her mother with her arms crossed across her chest and her weight leaned slightly onto one hip. She was dressed in a black tank top, black skirt, and a silver belt around her tiny waist. Her hair fell around her shoulders in thick, chunky layers – free of their traditional braids – and thick, side-swept bangs nearly obscured her left eye. As he stared, she brushed the hair out of her face – unused to having it in her way – and said, "Welcome."

Joel smiled, a bit too much perhaps, but he found Wednesday's coldness endearing and he couldn't help himself. "Thank you," he replied, simply.

As dinner ended, the family retired to the sitting room, but Wednesday silently exited into the conservatory. Taking the hint, Joel followed.

He found her sitting on a bench on the edge of the conservatory. The bench was meant to face inward, so one could sit up against the glass and look into the center of the room, at all the flowering plants. However, Wednesday sat, cross-legged, backwards, staring out the glass window into the darkness. Joel sat down next to her, his back to the window, his legs stretched out in front of him.

They sat in companionable silence for several moments.

Finally, Joel spoke, "Wednesday, why… why did you invite me…?" his voice trailed off as he lost his nerve to ask the question that had been haunting him.

Wednesday peeled her eyes away from the darkness and looked at Joel. Her eyes seemed liquid, soft and inviting, and maybe a little scared. She whispered, "I don't know."

She turned away quickly, focusing on the shapeless darkness outside.

After a moment, she spoke, her eyes still averted, "Why did you come…" She turned her face back to Joel's in a rapid movement. More passionate than before, she asked again, "Why did you come back, I mean?" Her eyes were searching, intense. There was the same edge of fear that Joel had seen in her eyes earlier. She wasn't afraid of him anymore, he saw, it wasn't that kind of fear. This was a fear of herself, of her own feelings. Seeing that, he understood the reason for her question. She wasn't trying to ferret out secrets of his past; she wanted to know his feelings, his plans for the future.

So he answered honestly, "I care about you Wednesday." _That's putting it lightly_, he thought to himself. "I've never cared about anything more in my life," he continued, and then smiled sardonically, "and I'm on my second one." Afraid that she would get up and leave or cut him off or tell him to get out, he hurried on. "I don't know what it means and I don't know how to be with you when I'm… I'm so… well, when I'm what I am… but I just know that when I'm away from you nothing else seems to matter. _Life_ doesn't matter." Joel dropped his head in his hands, waiting for Wednesday to rebuke him for his vulnerability or to get up and leave him, disgusted.

She didn't move. In fact, she didn't move for what seemed like hours. Finally, her face to the window, she said softly, "I am finding it uncomfortable," she said the word grudgingly as if admitting a great weakness, "to be away from you, as well."

Joel lifted his head slowly, as if unsure of what he'd just heard. He stared intently at the side of Wednesday's face, waiting for her to turn, but she never did. Finally, he cracked a small smile and leaned back against the glass again. Joel mused about how the biggest revelations seem to pass in the most unremarkable ways.

They passed the evening hours thusly, sitting in silence, each engrossed in his or her own thoughts, enjoying each other's company and the feeling of ease that accompanied each other's presence.

Outside, an owl hooted a final melancholy note before it was grabbed out of the sky by a crushing white hand. Perched high in a tree, the predator looked down upon the sprawling Addams estate, his eyes focused on the pale moon face of the girl in the window.

Waiting.


	8. Dangerous Game

**Ok so this is a LONG one. Pretty bloody and sadistic too. Just a heads up.**

**Thanks for the amazing reviews!! I hope you enjoy it!**

**(Don't worry, there's much more to come)! Please Review and let me know how I'm doing!**

**~TLD**

**Part Eight: Dangerous Game**

It was well after midnight when Joel had finally risen to leave. Not a particularly whimsical guy, Joel was smiling despite himself as he stood on the Addams' front porch saying heartfelt goodbyes to Wednesday's family. He could never have imagined that meeting her family again could have gone so well. He almost felt as if they were _his_ family, only more loving, accepting, and well, interesting, than his own family.

Wednesday lingered to walk Joel to his bike in the driveway, a move Joel hadn't anticipated. The two stood silently, awkwardly, on either side of Joel's bike, staring everywhere but at each other. Finally, Joel broke the silence.

"Thanks for having me, it was really…" he paused, shooting about for an appropriate adjective, "great," he added. The word felt hugely inadequate.

Wednesday looked up, wearing a slightly sardonic grin. Joel's conventional goodbye amused her. "I'm glad you came," she said, staring into Joel's eyes. The tone of her voice was fervent, and Joel heard more than a conventional platitude.

Joel climbed onto his bike, and leaned over toward Wednesday. Cupping her face in his right hand, he brought his lips to hers, planting a soft kiss on her lips, and then one along her jaw. He paused as he brought his lips close to her ear, and whispered, "Me too." As he pulled away, he let his hand linger before it ultimately fell and he returned it to the bike.

He smiled his lazy, cocky smile, "I'll call you?"

She smiled and rolled her eyes, amazed at how different things were since the last time he'd said that. "Yea. If you must," she added, smiling. She turned and headed back into the house.

Joel watched her go, waiting until she was out of sight before he left. As happy as he was that things were going well with Wednesday, he couldn't help but worry that his presence in her life was putting her in danger. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt anxious, antsy.

A long, fast ride around town should help to clear his mind, he thought.

As it was, he didn't make it to the end of the driveway.

He only drove a few feet out of sight of the front porch when he was hit hard from above, knocking him to the ground. His bike spun wildly out of control and slammed into a tree with a sickening crunch.

The force of the fall nearly knocked him out, but he was able to maintain consciousness and slide into a defensive crouch before his assailant was able to mount another attack.

His keen eyes scanned the darkness, searching for his attacker. Finally, they came to rest on a slightly darker patch of darkness. As he stared, a familiar scent reached him.

"Zane," he said, coldly. He stayed in his crouch, but circled around so that Zane was better revealed in a patch of moonlight.

A sinister chuckle rose out of the darkness. "Ah, Joel. So nice of you to remember me," he said, his voice like ice.

As Joel's body was reacting to the threat, his mind was racing ahead, "What do you want, Zane?" Joel snarled.

"Tisk, tisk, little brother," Zane said, toying, "first that nasty fire, then three years without so much as a phone call, and _now_, _playing with your food?_ You've been a bad boy, Joel." Zane stepped into the moonlight, his features accentuated by the unearthly glow.

He was tall, taller even that Joel, and muscular, with strong, prominent features, and cruel, thin lips. His reddish hair looked like clotting blood in the moonlight, and his sharp features cast shadows across his face. His pale skin seemed luminescent - a startling contrast to his dark apparel.

He straightened out of his crouch, seeming to find Joel an unworthy threat. He appeared suddenly bored, "You know why I'm here, Joel. It's time to end your foolishness and return to the coven. Lilith commands your return."

If possible, Joel increased his crouch, and felt a feral snarl building in his chest. Struggling to maintain focus and control his rage, he said, slowly and clearly, "No. I won't return with you."

Zane tilted his head in mock confusion, "I'm sorry," he said, scathingly, "you _won't_?" He laughed. "Unfortunately, little brother, _won't_ is not an option. You _will_ return with me, or you _will_ be destroyed." He let the last word linger, staring at Joel with unfathomable disgust in his eyes. After a long moment, a tiny hint of a challenging smile curled the corner of Zane's lips. He said, "So what will it be, Joel?"

In answer, Joel hurled himself at Zane with the force of a pouncing lion. The two rolled, kicking and punching, down the hillside until they crashed into the wrought iron gate of the Addams' family cemetery behind the house.

By a stroke of luck, Joel landed on top and landed a hard blow on Zane's chin, cracking the bone. With a growl of fury, Zane punched Joel, hard, in the chest and threw him 20 feet, crashing soundly into a nearby tree. Struggling to his feet, Joel's vision of the scene was obscured by warm liquid dripping into his eyes. Dizzy and disoriented, he didn't see Zane leap at him until it was too late. With a sickening pop, Joel heard his own shoulder dislocate as Zane lifted him from his feet and threw him bodily over the wrought iron gate and into the cemetery. Joel smashed into Aunt Laborgia's statue, cracking his head on the tombstone as he fell.

Amid the ringing in his ears and sickening 'drip drip' of his blood on the granite tombstone, Joel heard Zane's muted laughter and his soft footsteps.

Before he could move, he felt Zane's presence at his back, and heard his voice in his ear. "See what I told you, Joel? Did you really think you were a match for _me?_" He laughed.

Joel tried to raise his head, but suddenly Zane's hand was on the back of his head, holding him down. "No, Joel. Sorry. Playtime's over." He brought his other hand to Joel's head and pulled him up onto his knees. "Too bad you won't get to say goodbye to your little girlfriend," he sneered.

Joel tried to struggle against Zane's iron grip, but his right arm was useless and he was flirting with unconsciousness from loss of blood and too many hits to the head, staying awake only by a supreme act of will.

"Guess I could give her a message for you," he laughed.

"Stay – away – from – her," Joel managed, between gritted teeth.

"And what would you say," came a small, soft voice from a few yards away, "in your message?"

The vampire turned with inhuman swiftness, zeroing in on the source of the voice. His defensiveness melted away when he saw the small, pale, form of Wednesday Addams. Joel recognized her voice though he couldn't see her and he mumbled, "No, Wednesday, run… get out of here… go back inside…"

Zane returned his eyes to Joel, and with a glint of wicked inspiration, he pulled out a long, jagged knife and stabbed it into Joel's upper back, near the shoulder, pinning him to the ground. He turned Joel's head, so his eyes were trained on Wednesday, and whispered into his ear, "Wouldn't want you to miss the show. Try to stay awake, OK Joel? I'll come back for you when I'm finished with your girl."

He rose smoothly, the lithe grace of a skilled predator, and turned back to Wednesday. Her eyes were wide, but her face was impassive and her body still – the perfect semblance of calm. Arms behind her back and lightly balanced on her feet, she looked comfortable, but ready. She stared at the face of the vampire with interest, but without fear.

He sensed it, and it bothered him. Zane had two loves when it came to prey. He loved the bitter, acerbic taste of hateful, anguished, and sadistic lives, as well as reliving the evil deeds of his prey. For this, he stalked alleyways and bars, growing stronger on the blood of sadists and psychos. His second love was the smell of fear, sounds of pain, and the souring flavor of the blood of innocent girls, whose final moments of torment transformed their otherwise sickeningly sweet lives into ripe and ravishing anguish.

This girl didn't smell of fear, but he knew he could put it in her. He smiled with the challenge of it. Enough pain always sweetened the fear. Though it would be a shame to damage that pretty face, he thought to himself.

"So," he said, his silky voice as smooth as his movements, "Wednesday, is it? Interesting name. 'Wednesday's child is full of woe' is that right?" he mocked.

Wednesday smiled, "Quite."

Zane's forehead creased, this was not the answer he expected. He rearranged his features, trying not to reveal his confusion. He smiled, "I guess that explains your relationship with my brother here." He laughed, "He's brought me nothing but woe as well."

Now Wednesday's face betrayed confusion. She tilted her head and asked, "Brother?"

The sly hunter smiled a sickening imitation of casual flirtation, "Of sorts. We share blood, and well, of course there's our mother."

Joel coughed a hard laugh, "Mother. Hah."

Zane flew to his side and smacked him hard across the face. "She is our Queen, you will not disrespect her."

As Joel struggled to keep consciousness, Zane turned back to Wednesday. "Ah, where were we? Ah yes, brotherly similarities. Of course, there are our similar tastes. You, for instance…" He slid closer to her, keeping her locked in his gaze.

As he approached, Wednesday held her ground. She kept her arms clasped behind her back, stood evenly, and focused on keeping her breathing steady. Her penetrating eyes watched his face as annoyance creased his forehead. He'd expected her to be frightened. She smiled, heightening his displeasure.

"It's only sporting that I give you a head start," Zane crooned, "If you'd like to run, that is…" he smiled, greedily anticipating the chase.

Instead, Wednesday made her face stone and stared deep into the monster's eyes. "I will not run," she said, slowly and clearly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Joel struggling against the knife, and heard him moaning and mumbling as he tried to free himself and save her.

Zane noticed her distraction and was repulsed. The mere thought that his prey could be distracted from their fear of him turned his stomach. He needed to up the ante. He slunk into a crouch and let his desire for her blood warm his eyes, making them burn red. Wednesday's eyes focused back on him, and a sadistic grin creased his demonic face.

He heard her heart rate pick up and prepared to spring.

Joel growled and struggled violently as Zane launched himself at Wednesday's motionless form. They fell to the ground and Joel watched in horror as Zane reared back, about to plunge his teeth into Wednesday's throat.

Suddenly, a keening scream rent the air and the huge vampire disappeared in a cloud of ash.

Joel watched in horror as Wednesday's ash-covered body lay motionless on the cemetery floor. He held his breath, praying, searching for any sign of movement. When he couldn't stand it any longer, he called out, "Wednesday!"

The silence dragged on. Suddenly, a low moan reached his ears. "Wednesday?" he whispered.

Wednesday woke up on the cold cemetery sod, a large lump on her head already forming, and an ash-covered wooden stake clutched in her left hand. She sat up slowly, testing her balance, and looked up into the terror-stricken eyes of a badly beaten Joel.

A strange wave of emotion filled her chest and nearly choked her. It would be several years before she recognized that feeling as a mixture of love, joy, and relief. As it was, she ignored trying to figure it out and instead followed her instincts and half ran, half crawled to Joel's side.

After she had pulled the knife from his back and he had banged his shoulder back into place against a tombstone, Wednesday and Joel sat exhausted in the moonlight.

Joel ran his undamaged hand along Wednesday's face and head, and along her neck and arms to make sure he hadn't gotten his teeth in her. She thought he was being overly solicitous, but she allowed it – considering that she was doing the same thing to him, albeit discreetly, with her eyes.

Finally, Joel spoke, "You shouldn't have come out of the house. You're safe inside."

Wednesday glared at him.

Joel smiled, "Ok, Ok. Believe me, I'm glad you did. My point is…" his voice grew soft, "I'd rather get my ass kicked by my sadistic 'relatives'," he rolled his eyes at the term, "die a horrible death and spend eternity in…" he struggled with the word, "Hell, than have you harmed, killed, or turned trying to save me." By the end, his eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

Wednesday brought her hand to his cheek, as she had been aching to do all evening. Although his face was puffy and purpling from his serious beating, Wednesday was still awed by his beautiful features and his striking eyes. She opened her heart to him, allowing her eyes to soften and become earnest.

Joel's breath caught in his chest as he gazed at Wednesday. Suddenly he knew – however much it would kill him to lose her, somehow, she felt the same way.

Since Joel was in no shape to ride home (even if his bike wasn't smashed against a tree), Wednesday helped him back into the house. As the two left the cemetery, Morticia and Gomez turned away from their vantage point in an upstairs window.

"Wednesday the vampire slayer," Gomez chuckled.

"Well," said Morticia, smiling, "we always knew she would have the title 'slayer' attached to her name somehow."

Gomez sobered up a bit, "It's a dangerous game he's gotten her into," he said, concerned.

"They'll handle it," said Morticia, "besides," she added with a wicked grin, "what's life without a little _danger?_ Isn't that so, _mon cher_?"

Gomez's eyes glinted as her words struck him, "Ah, Tish. You are quite right."


	9. BloodLust

**OK, so a REALLY short one, but worth it. You'll see. Careful on this one, heed the rating ~ M ~ it gets a little steamy ;)**

**Don't worry. MUCH more to come.**

**Please review! Enjoy!**

**~TLD**

**Part Nine: BloodL****ust**

She ran her hands along the smooth skin of Joel's exposed chest. He laid back, arms behind his head, smiling that lazy, cocky smile she'd come to love. His eyes alternated between that delighted, smiling look as he watched her enjoy his body and that half-closed, trembling look as he savored the pleasure of her touch.

Wednesday lay to his side, her black nightshirt falling loose around her shoulders. Her black hair fell as a curtain on one side of her face as she held her head up with one hand, and her eyes danced with fire as watched her other hand as it moved slowly across Joel's chest, neck, arms, face…

He shuddered under her soft caresses, his eyes rolling back into his head. She smiled, liking the power she had over him and the pleasure she could bring him.

When he brought his eyes back to hers, they were no longer calmly delighted, but raging with a fiery passion and desire.

Smiling, she raised herself from his side, and climbed over his recumbent form, hovering. He smiled in anticipation and lifted his head to press his mouth against hers.

She smiled back. With a sudden fierceness, she grabbed his hair and pulled his head back onto the pillow, titling his chin so that his neck strained up toward her. He moaned softly, startled by her sudden movement. She felt a tightening in her belly and wicked ferocity that surged out of nowhere, and, with a cry, plunged her razor-sharp fangs into the pulsing vein in Joel's neck.

Joel strained against her, trying to pry her away, but her clutch was unbreakable. She moved as she drank, writhing her body up against his in a sick parody of the love they could have made. Joel's hands, which had been placed sweetly against Wednesday's body, now balled up into fists as he struggled for control, for life. She felt as his life drained out, as his strength failed, as his body quieted.

Finally, she raised her head, the wicked urge in her belly sated, and looked into the face of the man she loved. The man she'd killed. A sudden horror consumed her. Looking down at her hands, she saw she was coated, covered, drenched in blood. His blood? Wait, was it her blood? She looked back down at Joel, and found he was gone, and suddenly she was drowning, drowning in blood, her lungs aching and her body sinking, falling away from feeling, light, love. Dying.

Wednesday shouted out as she shot up in bed, drenched in sweat and panting hard. Her bed covers were wrapped around her legs from her tossing and turning. She grabbed her neck, felt her face, and, with tentative hands, ran her fingers along her teeth. All normal. With relief so acute it was painful, she sighed heavily. She scanned her room. No Joel, no blood, no nothing. Just a dream. A terrible… and wonderful… and terrible dream. Wednesday sat, listening to the rapid beating of her heart, trying to control her breathing, and wiped a stray tear from her eye.

Suddenly she heard a voice, a soft, sweet, seductive voice. It whispered like wind through the trees, like the half-imagined voice from a memory. It was so insubstantial that seconds after it was gone, Wednesday couldn't have said if she really heard anything at all.

"Sweet dreams…"


	10. It Begins

**Ok, so I probably should have attached this one to the one before it, but oh well. Another short one, but necessary. Trust me ;)**

**Please Review! Enjoy!**

**~TLD**

**Part Ten: It Begins**

Morticia's long, catlike eyes opened in a flash. Immediately roused from what had been a deep and satisfying sleep, Morticia felt her body become alert. She wasn't sure what had tripped that deep-rooted trigger, that innate fight or flight reflex, but she knew to trust her instincts.

She rose slowly out of bed. Her darling husband dozed still, snoring slightly, his head buried in pillows. Listening intently, Morticia moved with the silence of a jungle cat as she stealthily made her way across the floor.

It was a little after 3am according to the clock at their bedside, but Morticia didn't need the clock's confirmation. She could feel it in her bones, that witching hour, that deadest hour of night, where even the liveliest of souls flirted with the black abyss beyond.

She was heading to the door out into the hallway, but a small sound stopped her in her tracks. Without thinking, she turned, heading for the window instead.

The sound came again, a little louder this time. It was less than a sigh, less than a laugh, as heartbreaking as a sob, but as radiant as a bell. It was almost a song, but softer than a breath.

She stopped within arm's reach of the heavy velvet curtains covering their window. As she reached out, a strange feeling overcame her. It was like a cool breath of air down her spine, except that it seemed to seep right through her, cooling her bones, tickling her lungs. The scent of lilacs filled the air around her.

Morticia let her arm drop. Her eyes flashed annoyance and understanding. She straightened her back, drew a determined breath, turned her back on the window, and climbed back into bed.

Though she curled back under the covers and nestled against Gomez, her piercing catlike eyes were alert, staring at the ceiling. Thinking, planning, remembering.

Gomez grunted a little in his sleep and shifted restlessly. Morticia cracked a small smile, kissed him on the head, and nestled herself closer.

Glaring at the ceiling once more, Morticia's smile grew sinister.

"So. It begins," she thought venomously.

Joel couldn't sleep. That fact alone wasn't particularly strange – Joel hardly ever slept during nighttime hours – but it wasn't the time of day that kept him from sleeping. It was a deep and nagging fear that gnawed at his mind, keeping peace at bay.

He slept, well, didn't sleep, in an unfamiliar bedroom – a guest room in the Addams mansion, in fact. After his scuffle with his demonic half-brother of sorts, Joel was in no shape to venture back to his motel room across town. And, frankly, he was glad that he had that excuse. He was no coward, but, beaten and bloody as he was, he didn't feel up to taking on whatever might await him at home. If Zane had followed him to the Addams,' he more than likely left some unwelcome surprise at the motel – just in case. Then again, Zane had always been reckless and overconfident. Perhaps he wouldn't have made contingency plans in case his direct attack failed. Joel wasn't willing to risk it. He needed rest.

Thankfully, one of the perks of being one of the reborn damned was that he healed from most things much faster than an average human. He felt his cheeks and jaw in the dark. Yes, the swelling had definitely gone down and the area was only slightly tender. He felt around his shoulder for the knife wound. Still tender, definitely, but it was already beginning to scab. He found it ironic that the worse the wound, the faster it healed. Helpful, but ironic, considering how vain his kind tended to be.

He shook his head, remembering the one time he'd blackened Veronica's eye in combat practice. She'd nearly taken his head off. Literally. Of course, he healed up before she did, so he got the last laugh after all.

The last laugh. The words stuck out in his mind as the gravity of his situation began to sink in. Zane was a scout, a warrior, yes, but primarily a tracker and a scout. If he were here, that could only mean one thing.

Lilith had upped her timetable. The others were coming.


	11. Under the Skin

**Sorry it's been a little while since I updated last. But don't worry, I haven't finished the story yet, so there's much more to come!**

**Enjoy!!**

**Please Review!**

**~TLD**

**Part Eleven: Under the Skin**

It was daybreak and, for the first time in her life, Wednesday welcomed the rising sun. She'd thrown open her dark drapes sometime after 3am – after waking from her dream – a nightmare really – and had been sitting, curled up in a tight ball, on top of her sheets, staring into the darkness out her window and waiting for the sun to dispel the final remnants of her horribly, enticingly, seductively evil dream.

Her eyes bore the dark bags of going without sleep, but she had refused to let herself doze even a moment after waking, for fear that the dream might take hold again and that she'd lack the willpower to push it away as a nightmare.

She tried to forget it. To push it out of her mind. To ignore the deep longing it created in her belly. To forget the power she felt coursing through her body as she struck and the flavor that had set her body on fire as she drank.

_It was just a dream_, she told herself, over and over. _It wasn't real._ _That is NOT what I want. _

Wednesday tried to think through the dream and what it meant, carefully. Up until meeting Joel, well – _new_ Joel, Wednesday had always written off vampires as a superstition invented to prey upon men's fear of losing power. You know, like with the myth of the succubus – a female that drains a man of his vitality – you know, literally. Fear of impotence. Wednesday smiled. Men were horribly predictable.

So, within that frame of reference, Wednesday had just assumed the myths of vampirism played the same role – female vamp sucking the life, taking the power, away from her male victims.

That part of the myth had always intrigued her.

What scared her now was that this dream didn't center around that aspect at all.

Suddenly she was contemplating the _physical_ aspects.

She hoped it had to do with her attraction to Joel on a basic, human level. She couldn't hide it from herself anymore. She cared for him. She desired him. She L – L – Loved (she forced the word through) him. It was only human that she'd dream of him.

_But_, she thought, _that doesn't explain the blood…_

She shook her head against the absurdity of all. First of all, it didn't matter – _She was NOT a vampire._ So she didn't have to worry about killing Joel. And secondly, it was a dream. Dreams don't always mean something.

She sighed heavily. _Dammit_, she thought. She decided it was time for her to get up and face the day. After last night's attack, Joel will need help getting home and she needed answers about why her house seemed to become a breeding ground for bloodsuckers.

A soft knock at her door nearly caused her to jump out of her skin.

She stifled a small gasp with her fist.

"Wednesday?" came Joel's soft, low voice.

As she tried to slow her breathing, she kept silent. After a moment, Joel's footsteps faded into the distance as he went downstairs without her.

She clutched her knees harder to her chest and realized she needed another few minutes before she was ready to face the day, and Joel, after all.

Joel had assumed that he'd be the only one awake. The Addamses were creatures of night as much as he was and, if he hadn't been so anxious about his recent revelation, he knew he'd be in bed until at least noon. It was around 6 am.

So he was supremely shocked to find Morticia, wrapped in layers of black silk, sitting motionlessly in her Queen Anne, a steaming cup of henbane tea warming her hands. She didn't look at him as he approached. Her eyes appeared foggy, unfocused.

Joel stopped a few feet away from her, not wanting to scare her when she realized he was there. As the minutes ticked by, Joel felt awkward, staring at Morticia through her absorption. He turned to leave.

"You're up early," Morticia's clear voice stopped him.

Without turning, he replied, "I couldn't sleep." He turned, and smiled politely, "You?"

Morticia smiled over her tea, "No, I couldn't sleep either." Her eyes seemed sad and distant. As they began to glaze over, returning Morticia to her distraction, Joel felt compelled to speak.

"I fear I have brought a terrible evil down upon you, upon all of you," Joel blurted. He moved to sit in a chair across from Morticia.

Her eyes returned to his face. They narrowed slightly, "Yes?"

Joel felt ashamed under her scrutiny. Head in his hands, he continued, "Apparently," his voice was filled with venom, "my _schoolmates_ haven't moved on in my absence. My presence is required." He lifted his head and his eyes burned with a violent hatred that Morticia had never seen in him before. "So they've come to fetch me back," he said, turning his burning eyes on Morticia.

In a vague corner of his mind, through his rage, he noticed Morticia's body tighten as she reacted to his ferocious gaze. Mustering all the control he could find, he toned down the force of his gaze. Slightly cooler, he continued, "And, worst of all, she is coming with them."

He dropped his head, unsure how to continue. Because of this, he didn't notice Morticia's small nod, as she confirmed her feelings from the night before with Joel's confession. A steely look of determination crossed her features and her eyes narrowed in preparation of a battle she'd waited ages to finish.

"Lilith," she said, softly.

Joel's head shot up as if he'd been electrocuted. "What did you say?" he gasped.

Morticia smiled slightly. It didn't reach her eyes. "Yes," she said simply, "I know her. We've met."

Joel watched as Morticia's usually stoic face contorted into an angry, if not slightly wicked, expression. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, rose from her chair, and began pace the room.

Her back to Joel, she began, "It was many years ago. I suppose I was a few years younger than you are now, and my mother decided that Ophelia, my sister, and I should attend finishing school, like all proper young ladies." She laughed once, without humor.

"She was interested in Ophelia," she continued, slowly, as if reliving the experience as she spoke. "Ophelia shares her coloring, you know, blond and pale." She shuddered slightly with disgust. She turned back to Joel, smiling sardonically, "Woe befalls the unfortunate." She sighed.

Joel noticed her voice sounded slightly envious. He smiled internally at her logic.

Her smile faded and she faced Joel with an unreadable expression. "I told Lilith to leave Ophelia alone." Her eyes glinted wickedly, "Lilith seemed to find that amusing."

Her expression melted. She sighed heavily, "Well, I suppose it might have been. I was only 14 or 15 at the time, practically a child. Anyway, the lifestyle of a vampire may be glamorous, Ophelia certainly thought so, but I knew better."

She turned knowing eyes on Joel and approached in her seductive way. "Power," she whispered, "that's what she promises." She shifted her weight and stared deep into Joel's eyes. He squirmed under the power of her gaze, and wished to back up, to give himself more space, but didn't for fear of revealing himself a coward. Finally, she spoke again, "But that's what she takes."

She turned abruptly, moving back toward her chair as if the conversation had drained her of all energy.

Joel heaved a sigh of relief to be released from her stare and found a seat for himself. When he could speak again, he said, "What did she do when you told her to back off?"

To this Morticia smiled. "I've always had an affinity for poison, Joel. Poisons, potions, acids…" She let this last word slide into a hiss. "She came for me one night, as I slept. I heard her coming, though, and when she grabbed me by the throat, I was ready. I flung the acid into her face." Her smile was pronounced now, and deliciously wicked. "She screamed," she added, before lapsing into silence as if savoring the memory. "I reached for the stake I'd made, but before I could drive it through her heart, she grabbed my wrist."

Morticia rolled up the sleeve of her traditional black gown and offered her wrist to Joel. He saw the unmistakable imprints of a human hand, dug deep into her flesh. It was like a bruise that never healed, but deep into the flesh, like Lilith's grip had killed all of the tissue underneath. Joel could run his fingers in the grooves that Lilith's hand had made.

Joel thought he understood why Morticia always wore long sleeves now.

Morticia rolled her sleeve back down, "Of course, she healed from the acid burns in a day or two. This, however…" her eyes returned to their wicked glint. "Now it's my turn to leave a mark."


	12. Space

**Sorry it's taken me awhile to update - Got something BIG in the works and I want to make sure I set it up right. ;)**

**Anyway, here's a good long one to make up for the shorter ones I've been posting recently. **

**Hope you like it! Please Review!!**

**Enjoy~**

**TLD**

**Part Twelve: Space**

It was nearly 10 am when Joel decided to check on Wednesday again. She hadn't come out of her bedroom yet, and, while that wasn't particularly unusual for Wednesday, Joel had expected she'd be anxious to awake and begin grilling him with questions about the previous night.

Additionally, he was growing anxious himself, sitting in the living room with Morticia and Gomez. Morticia had brought Gomez up to speed on the impending vampiric invasion, the story of Lilith, and of their history. Because of this, Gomez alternated between concerned glances at his wife, spirited but determined paces around the room as he absentmindedly stroked various articles of weaponry on the walls, and angry glares at Joel for bringing this threat upon them.

Joel had to admit, however, that Gomez wasn't nearly as angry as Joel had thought he'd be. Gomez seemed to thrill to the challenge of it all. His fear for his wife and children and his boyish thrill at the prospect of bloodshed warred within him.

Morticia sat impassively, as usual, staring off into space. Whether she was reliving painful memories or plotting revenge, Joel couldn't tell.

Finally, he couldn't stand the pressure of their company a moment longer, so he decided to check on Wednesday.

He climbed the normally rickety and creaky steps with an inhuman grace such that his footsteps made no sound. He stretched out with his senses, listening for the sound of her breathing, the beating of her heart. He could smell her scent, so much stronger in her room, where every fabric was laden with it. As he reached her door, he could almost feel her warmth against his skin, radiating through the wooden door.

He paused, suddenly feeling unsure. Should he wake her? Surely she'd want to be woken, to be brought up to speed on the threat. She'd love to berate him for being stupid enough to bring this threat to her doorstep, or even to make fun of him for still needing her to save his neck after all of these years. He smiled slightly, imagining her face contorted in her favorite expression – scorn.

He reached his hand out, ready to knock.

The door flew open, away from his hand, as Wednesday burst out. She stopped rapidly, almost falling to the floor, when he saw Joel's form in her doorway. Uncharacteristically, she looked disheveled, before she controlled her face and straightened up. When she looked up to Joel's face; however, her face was cold, impassive.

"Darkening my doorstep?" she asked, with wide eyes and stoic face.

Joel almost smiled at her turn of phrase, but was stopped by the strange emptiness in her eyes. He studied her face a moment longer before hurrying himself into answering. "Um, yea, I, well I was… " he paused, gathering his composure, "Coming to see if you'd woken," he finished smoothly, falling into his comfortable, lazy smile. He leaned slightly against the doorway, hovering over Wednesday's body and effectively blocking her exit.

If he thought she'd be pleased by his sudden closeness, he was disappointed. Wednesday scowled slightly before returning to her stoic face and empty eyes.

She faked a sardonic smile, "I'm going out for a bit."

Joel's brow crumpled in confusion. "Now?" he said.

She used his moment of confusion to slip past him and began to move briskly down the stairs. Once her back was to him, she allowed herself a brief expression of concern; she needed to get out of here - Now.

Joel wheeled around, hurrying to follow Wednesday. Just as her hand touched the door handle to the front door, Joel's hand closed on her shoulder.

"Wait," he said firmly.

She spun around. "Yes?" she said coldly, her eyes impatient daggers.

Again, her expression caught him off guard. He removed his hand from her shoulder, feeling almost as if he'd been burned, burned with dry ice or liquid nitrogen – something scalding in its infinite coldness.

He felt her challenging him. The air was rife with the static anticipation before a battle. He could see it in her eyes, in her posture. The beast in Joel could recognize a challenge. But he couldn't feel it. Normally such a posture would trigger his own battle response. But not now. He felt cold.

A cold wave of dread washed away his confusion and annoyance at her strange behavior, extinguishing his anger and his battle urges.

He didn't want this enemy.

He decided to let her go.

With a sigh, he rubbed his forehead and raised weary eyes to Wednesday's.

"Alright, well. Be careful. It's sunny now, but it feels like rain is on the way." His eyes grew grim. "They can move about in the rain."

He watched Wednesday's face for any sign of fear, or anything to show she'd heard him, that she'd understood, or that she still cared for him despite the danger he'd put her in.

But he saw nothing.

Finally, she said, "Goodbye then."

And was gone.

* * *

Wednesday moved a little too quickly in her haste to be out of the stifling closeness of the house and into the quiet escape of her cool, black Mercedes. The morning sun was blinding and she ducked her head, shielding her eyes against the onslaught. She ripped open the car door with too much vigor and slammed herself into her own personal sanctuary. Dropping her head onto the leather steering wheel, she sighed heavily.

The deeply tinted windows encased the interior in a thick sheet of darkness and Wednesday felt immediately calmer. After a few deep, cleansing breaths, Wednesday turned the key in the ignition, feeling the deep purr of the engine rumble through her. A sigh of contentment slipped through her lips and grasped the steering wheel with a loving caress.

"Let's go for a drive," she murmured to herself.

"Yes, Let's," crooned a soft, sweet voice.

Wednesday jumped involuntarily, but strong hands restrained her right wrist and grabbed a handful of her loose black hair, pinning her head to the headrest.

"Oh no," chided the voice, "none of that. I just want to talk," the voice pouted.

Wednesday looked into the rearview mirror to face her attacker.

Her head was pressed up against the right side of Wednesday's headrest, her red, pouty lips inches from Wednesday's ear. Her face was like a porcelain doll's – alabaster, with sapphire eyes, and ruby lips. Wednesday had time to register that, were this the face of a doll, the evil grin contorting its lips would have made it the most sinister doll on the market. For a second it made her miss Marie Antoinette.

Then she felt the pain in her head as her hair was being ripped back and the searing pain in her wrist as the vampire nearly crushed her radius and was jolted back to reality.

"Talk?" she spat through gritted teeth.

"Well, yes, silly girl," vampire Barbie giggled. Then her eyes narrowed and she added in a deadened monotone, "Otherwise you'd already be dead."

"Fair enough," Wednesday managed. "What do you want?"

Vampire Barbie's eyes sparkled, "That should be obvious." She titled her head in a coy manner, before whispering in Wednesday's ear, "You."

Wednesday controlled the shock on her face, and attempted a casual tone of voice, "Me?"

"Think about it," the sinister doll crooned, "an eternity of power, power over men, power over all mortals – the ability to hunt, to prey upon the lesser mortals, the weaklings – you can have everything you've always wanted. The power you have now pales in comparison to what you could have – of what you could _be_ – with us."

Wednesday felt the words like wriggling snakes trying to seek an entrance into her consciousness. They spun like incense through her brain, swirling in a fragrant haze, obscuring thought and feeling. But she fought back – she could only vaguely remember why she should fight back – but she did, just enough to keep her head above the suffocating wave.

She looked again into the rearview mirror and saw the doll's face had changed – it was no longer simply sinister, now her eyes glowed red with sudden fierceness and her face transformed into the face of the hunter.

Without thinking, Wednesday thrust her free left hand to the window control buttons and rolled down the rear windows just as the hunter prepared to sink her teeth into Wednesday's throat.

Vampire Barbie shrieked as the rays of sunlight struck her exposed skin on her arms. She wailed and fought to cover her face with blistering and crumbling arms, freeing Wednesday's head and right arm. Wednesday finished rolling down all of the windows and reached up with her right hand for the moonroof controls.

The screaming and wailing came to an abrupt halt and Wednesday smelled the thick, cloying smell of too much incense in a small space. Breathing deeply of the fresh breeze coming through her window, Wednesday finally turned in her seat to see the wreckage in the back.

All that was left of vampire Barbie was a pile of ashes and the lingering smell of incense. Wednesday shook herself, trying to dislodge the nasty feeling of having her so close and the lingering power of her seductive offer.

After she brushed the majority of the ash out of her car, she left the windows rolled down, turned her music up high, and revved the engine – letting the pavement roll out behind her.


	13. First Kiss

**This is a MEGA chapter, so be warned. Hopefully this makes up for my mini chapters and the time-lag in between. **

**Hope you enjoy it!**

**Please Review!!**

**Part Thirteen: First Kiss**

She'd driven for miles through winding country roads, circling and meandering to and fro around the conventional suburban checker-pattern of 30 mph stop and go. Though Wednesday despised the glaring sun and the fertile bounty of the farmland it produces, she couldn't help but love the empty streets, the winding hills, and the stretching landscape that left her, and her Mercedes, completely alone.

The roads seemed to cradle the car, which, in turn, seemed to carve delicately through the land rather than lumber over it. In a strange sense she felt connected to the land, to the car, as if it were she alone that flew over ravines and across fields, around winding bends, or under low hanging branches.

She wasn't sure exactly when she'd left her home, so she wasn't sure how long she'd driven before she found herself in desperate need of a little caffeine. Winding her way, halfheartedly, back toward town, she grabbed a coffee at one of those drive-through affairs, (not willing to leave the sanctuary of her car just yet), and slowly but surely found herself wending her way to a familiar spot.

When she reached the weeping willow at the ridge of a hill, overlooking a cemetery below, she was, at first, surprised to find herself there. Had she consciously driven herself to the same spot in which she'd watched fireworks with Joel? The same spot in which she first suspected something was different about him?

Though it was nearly mid-day by now, Wednesday noticed that the glaring intensity of the morning sun had dimmed. She eyed the enveloping shade of the expansive willow and watched the slight twitching of the bows with great envy. After a moment of battling with her desire to remain in her car and her urge to sit in the shade as the wind brushed her face, Wednesday forced her door open with a groan and settled herself beneath the tree.

In the horizon, Wednesday could see the steady clouds inching their way across the sky. It was one of those days that the unobservant person would never imagine could result in rain. But Wednesday knew better. Like Joel, she could feel it in the air. It was slight, but the gentle breeze carried a hint of weight, like the air was already becoming heavy with the thought of rain. And the clouds; though they inched carefully, Wednesday could tell they were hiding something – an intensity that only builds over time.

Wednesday smiled sardonically at the clouds, approving of their innocent façade and raw power, imagining how the storm would rage that evening. _I know the truth about you_, she thought to herself, imagining the unprepared masses, waiting for their buses and taxis that evening without even a newspaper to shield them.

She smirked sadistically, but after a moment, the smile faded.

_You'll have to confront it sooner or later_, Wednesday heard her inner voice chiding.

There were two very different, yet connected, problems plaguing Wednesday's mind. One, the problem of Joel, the horrifying prospect of being in love with him and the many, varied horrors inherent in that potential vulnerability. And two, the problem of his being a vampire – _well, no_, she admitted to herself, it wasn't _his_ being a vampire that bothered her, it was the inscrutable power-lust that had seeped into her veins from the moment of her own vampiric dream.

With a start, she realized the two problems were essentially two manifestations of the same issue – the price of power. Well, of course there were other issues, ones that complicated the basic issue, but the commonality of the two problems revolved around power and the price Wednesday would have to pay to get it.

The vampire issue was clearest: was Wednesday willing to gain an infinite amount of power over mortals, by putting her body and soul at the mercy of some sire, who would, no matter how much power she had, always have power over her?

She shuddered.

The Joel issue was more complex.

Now that she'd admitted to herself that she loved him, she found herself unable to be near him. She'd thought, at first, on the tail end of her dream, that she'd been afraid to be near him for his own safety. But, she could see now, in the cool clarity of her solitude, that she wasn't hiding _for_ him, but _from_ him. And what's more, from herself and her…she scowled…_feelings._

"Yuck," she said aloud. She loathed the word _feelings_, even more than she loathed feelings themselves.

Her experience with love, albeit secondhand, had always been the example of her parents. They were a good model, in Wednesday's estimation, considering that her father doted on his mother and that she, in loving fashion, alternated between sadistically feigning indifference and sadistically inflicting pain – the two pastimes her father loved best.

Wednesday rolled her eyes, despite a slight smile curling her lips.

Her face crumbled into concern as she realized that even their masochistic/sadistic pairing could not work without a shared concern and love for one another, and a deep desire to please the other – _teamwork_.

_Ew._ This was Wednesday's second least-favorite word.

_Crap_, she thought.

_So, where do we stand?_ She heard her inner voice ask again.

As the clouds rumbled in, Wednesday sat in silence, her coffee steaming in the heavy air.

She didn't know.

In her absorption, she didn't notice the sky beginning to darken in that back-lit sort of way, as the clouds trapped the daylight close to the ground but obscured the sun. It wasn't until fat droplets of rain trickled down the willow boughs that Wednesday realized she'd stayed out too long.

She rose to leave.

"There you are, my child," she said, freezing Wednesday in her tracks. Her coffee fell to the ground unnoticed.

Wednesday turned slightly toward the sound of the voice, feeling an odd sense of recognition, though she'd never consciously heard this voice before.

Wednesday was met with a strange and terrible sight.

Standing before her, shielded from the sudden downpour by two, very large, overlapping umbrellas held aloft by two large, well dressed men, was a tall, voluptuous woman, whose long, blonde hair was pulled artfully back from her face, wherein glittering ice blue eyes stared, unblinking, at Wednesday.

Feeling uncomfortably trapped in her gaze, Wednesday scanned the rest of the woman's appearance. She was tall, but not unnaturally so, and curvy, but not thick. She wore a tan overcoat, despite the warmth of the afternoon, and she kept her hands inside the pockets of her coat. Her appearance gave off the impression of wealth and class, as glittering diamonds studded her ears and her well-tailored pants exposed fancy (and completely mud-free, despite the rain) crocodile pumps.

The stranger seemed to be waiting for Wednesday to respond, so she lifted her eyes back to the strange icy blue abyss and said, "Excuse me?" She shifted her weight impetuously, placing a hand on her hip. Usually when she struck this pose, the force of her glare was enough to discourage further conversation.

Not today.

The strange woman smiled.

"I said, 'there you are,' my dear Wednesday." Her voice was as soft as sigh but it jolted Wednesday like an electric shock.

She tried to keep her shock off of her face and out of her voice. "Do I know you?" she asked, casually.

The woman giggled. It was an enchanting sound. As such, it made Wednesday's skin crawl. Wednesday's eyes raked across the men at her sides, their faces partially obscured by heavy dark shades, their bodies clad in dark pants and jackets. They remained immobile, and silent.

When her eyes returned to the woman, Wednesday noticed her expression had sharpened. No longer subtly amused, her face was now pensive, calculating. Wednesday stared, waiting for her to play her hand.

Finally, she spoke. "I am that which you most crave to be. I possess that which you most desperately desire. And I am she who might grant all of these things to you – should you merely ask."

Lilith's voice rang out over the steady drizzling of the rain and dissipated into the silence.

Wednesday absorbed the poetic verse of the woman before her and raised an eyebrow in disgusted impatience. The woman's act of benevolence was wearing on her.

More than her deep desire for power, Wednesday felt a growing disdain for this woman standing before her – her poor theatrics, overblown prose, and silent bodyguards made Wednesday feel like she was in corny sitcom.

She sighed heavily and turned to leave. She'd managed to take three steps before her path was blocked by two snarling sorority girls. The first, a tall redhead, fell into a crouch and half-leaped at Wednesday's throat. Wednesday reared back defensively, but the girl's face was halted inches from her own when the second girl grabbed the first and pulled her back. Wednesday straightened as Red screamed furiously and struggled against the arms of the second girl, a smaller dark-skinned girl with long braided locks.

"Calm yourself, Melody," Lilith's voice rang out, sharper than Wednesday had heard before.

"Relax, Mel," the second girl hissed, pulling tighter against the struggling girl in her arms.

The redhead's struggling calmed slightly, and she looked Wednesday straight in the eye. "You'll pay for what you did to Cassandra," she snarled.

Wednesday stared back, unafraid. And, with a flourish, turned her back on the girls.

"Well," she said, offhandedly, "This has been a blast, but I think I'm about through for the afternoon, so –"

The circle of vampires tightened around her as she moved for her car.

"See, here's the thing, _Wednesday_," the dark-skinned girl said her name like a dirty word, "We're not really ready for you to leave just yet."

Wednesday kept her eyes on Lilith, "Hmm, that's strange," she said in mock confusion, "I thought you said it was for me to _ask_ for your gifts."

Lilith kept her poise, "Yes, well, I had hoped you might come to your senses. We really are quite similar, you and I. Aligning yourself with like minds, especially those who can offer you limitless power… well, let's just say I'd thought you, of all people, would make the smart choice."

Wednesday remained silent, so Lilith continued.

"Of course, there's also the matter of the damage you've done to our family."

Wednesday smiled sardonically. "Family?"

"Why yes dear. Thanks to you we're down three members, two of which are completely lost to us now." Wednesday heard a collective hiss rumble around her.

"Which brings us back to you," said Lilith. "The least you could do is join our little collective willingly. You will be rewarded handsomely."

"That still leaves you two short," Wednesday replied in deadened monotone.

Lilith smiled, "Why yes, clever girl. But of course, young Joel wouldn't dream to be parted from us with you in our number and then… well, I suppose we'd just have to find another _willing_ candidate." Lilith said that final line with a sinister glare in her eye – as if she'd already picked out the candidate and was greatly anticipating the initiation.

"And if I refuse to, as they say, _come quietly_?" Wednesday asked politely.

At these words, Lilith's face became fierce and her eyes glowed subtly red. A smile lined her face – a smile that was so sinisterly evil that Wednesday felt a pang of jealousy.

Lilith advanced, and the entire circle began to contract slowly.

"In that case," Lilith began, slowly, letting each word sink in, "we will take you by force, and then – in punishment for your resistance - initiate each member of your family – draining each one dry… before letting you choose the two we will resurrect by the power of our blood."

"How does that sound?" Lilith hissed.

Wednesday was momentarily stunned by the sadistic intensity of the vampire before her – equal parts fear, revulsion, and awe warred within her – rendering her speechless.

Without a hope of running for it – the graveyard was deserted below her and the drive up was a mile long – or making it to her car – the way was completely blocked off – Wednesday set her feet and braced herself against an unbeatable assault.

She reached into her combat boot for the small knife she kept there for emergencies (or the occasional threat), knowing full well that a tiny blade against five vampires was nearly a waste of time.

"Have you made your decision?" Lilith asked, eyeing the blade.

Just as Wednesday was about to shout something defiant and insulting, a different voice rent the air.

"Lilith."

The voice was soft and low, and, despite the tense situation, it froze everyone in their tracks.

Lilith pulled up out of a crouch and returned to a casual stance, smiling.

"Ah, dear Joel, where have you been, you naughty boy," she chided.

Wednesday, as well as everyone else, turned to the sound of his voice. It was coming from a few feet behind Lilith, outside of the circle. As Wednesday looked, she saw he stood casually, leaned against his motorcycle, dressed in his riding attire – covered from head to toe in black leather. His helmet was in his hands.

His posture was calm and unafraid, but Wednesday thought she could make out a slight stiffness in his jaw that betrayed his anger and his fear.

"Oh, you know," Joel replied casually, "Here and there."

"Well, I'm glad you're _here_ now," said Lilith, seductively. "We were just about to welcome Wednesday into our little family, isn't that nice, Joel?"

Joel snorted. "Yea, I don't think so." Leaving his helmet with his bike, he walked over to Wednesday and stood by her side. "I'm pretty sure we're leaving now."

Lilith laughed, "Joel, don't be silly. You don't stand a chance against the five of us. And what's more," Lilith's voice grew sinister, "how can you protect Wednesday from _us_, when you can't even protect her from _you."_

Lilith's eyes grew dark and she stared deep into Joel's eyes. His body bucked slightly, as if he were trying to avoid eye contact, but he remained in place. Wednesday turned to watch as Joel's body shook very slightly despite his whitening knuckles and clenched fists. She could hear Lilith murmuring something under her breath and she looked up into Joel's face to see his eyes slowly reddening - before he closed them completely and bowed his head under the onslaught.

Wednesday took a reflexive step back and froze. She froze because her impulsive movement had stirred Joel from his stillness. In an instant, his head had whipped up and he stared her down. On his face he wore the look of the predator when the baby deer crunches a hoof on a fallen branch. Wednesday held her breath and stared into unfathomable depths of his unfamiliar eyes.

It was terrifying. Gone was the cold face he wore when he was trying to hide something, or the tormented face as he relived his nightmare, or the cocky, smiling face he'd worn the first time they sat on this ridge. This was the face of the hunter.

He moved slowly, questing out with his senses, taking in every aspect of his prey – her smell, her racing heart, her stillness, her fear, the tantalizing color of her skin and the warm pulsing of her life-laden blood. Joel could practically taste it.

In his head he heard, "Take her, Joel." A litany of encouragement in the seductive voice of Lilith that pulled at his heart and urged his deprived limbs into action.

"Joel?" a different voice said, softly, breaking slightly in fear.

Wednesday watched as Joel's glare was broken by an infinitesimal amount. The mask of the hunter slipped and was momentarily replaced by a look of confusion that quickly crumbled into an expression of agonizing pain.

"Focus," said the lilting voice in Joel's head, "Take the girl. Obey. Follow your instincts."

Wednesday watched Joel's face change again. The hunter folded forward into a crouch and prepared to spring.

Wednesday felt an odd combination of sensations as regret, remorse, sadness, and loss swirled uncomfortably through her heart and mind.

Instinctively, she knew her life was at an end, but, despite knowing this, she felt neither fear, nor anger, nor any of the other emotions she imagined other people felt when facing their deaths.

All she felt, while looking into the face of the hunter, was that she loved him and that he belonged to her.

Thus, in a strange, startling, and (many might argue) stupid move, Wednesday approached the hunter before he could spring.

"Joel," she said firmly.

And, placing her hands on either side of his face, she pulled him into a fierce kiss, knowing full well that it might very well be her last.


	14. An Offer She Can't Refuse

**So, kind of a BIG chapter, but very dramatic. Hopefully those of you who feel my Addams' are too tame will eat your words ;) (in a good way)**

**A little steamy, a little bloody, alot bit morbid and dramatic - all in all ~ M ~**

**Please Review! (Don't worry, MUCH more to come!)  
**

**Enjoy!**

**~TLD**

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**Part Fourteen: An Offer She Can't Refuse**

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Her smell was overwhelming. So close.

So… mouthwatering.

He breathed her in, tasting her mounting adrenaline on his tongue, letting the gathering shockwaves from the racing beat of her heart wash over him, and inhaling the swirling scents of elderberry and henbane rising off her skin.

His eyes burned, mirroring the burning ache in his throat and the gut-wrenching desire in his stomach. His muscles groaned and flexed with the need to pounce. His mouth watered in anticipation and his fangs scratched against his soft lips.

He watched her – unnaturally still despite her hammering heart, her face, unusually stoic despite her fear. She turned her eyes on him – wide, but steady, liquid, but intense. Searching.

Joel gasped.

His vision cleared, the reddish tint snapping away. The grey, drizzling scene returned to him in stark contrast. He noticed the tension in his body, the stiff clench of his fists with a shock. _Oh no_, he thought. With a sinking feeling of dread, doubt crept in.

Thought was erased as a searing pain pierced his heart. He grit his teeth against the pain, his head bowing beneath the onslaught as she filled his head and set fire to his insides.

_Take her_.

The burning desire consumed him again. Raising his eyes to his prey, he prepared to spring.

Suddenly she was there. Her hands were on his face, her mouth raised to his, her body pressed against his chest. The hunter smiled at his good fortune, his body aching for the kill.

"Joel." Her wide, liquid, eyes pierced him, glowing onyx in the dimness, raindrops glittering like diamonds on her eyelashes.

Shock. The hunter's glare faltered.

In his moment of confusion, she pressed her lips to his, clinging, twining her fingers in his hair, and pressing against him with a ferocious intensity.

Joel's body stiffened, suddenly aware of Wednesday's body so close to his. In a distant corner of his senses, he felt the tension in the surrounding vampires, watching them with baited breath. The faint scent of lilacs reached him and he was aware of Lilith's presence, looming to his right. He tensed involuntarily.

And then he felt her, really felt her – soft and warm in his arms, trembling slightly from the chill, dripping from the rain, gripping tightly, pressing her chest against his, as if to break through directly to his heart. He noticed his jaws were tightly clenched, and, with a sigh, released them. He wrapped his arms around her more tightly, delicately entwining his right hand in the hair at the nape of her neck. Lifting her slightly up onto her toes, he kissed her fully, savoring the sweetness of the strange moment, his heart leaping as she moaned softly in response.

Setting her back down, letting her heels drop back onto the sodden ground, Joel drew back slowly, relishing the moment when Wednesday's eyes fluttered open, and their gazes held. Her eyes were warm and open, glinting with a mix of desire and victory, before her expression hardened. A steely look of determination overcame her features, not altogether erasing the victorious glint in her eyes, giving her a face a slightly wicked expression.

A small remnant of that lazy, cocky smile curled Joel's lips in response.

They turned in unison to face Lilith. Wednesday cracked a small, sardonic smile at Lilith's look of dismay, accentuating the wickedness of her expression. Lilith rearranged her features accordingly, her red eyes glaring at the pair, fangs slipping out from between smiling lips.

On a silent signal, Lilith and the assembled vampires slid into identical crouches. Joel mirrored the gesture, his eyes scanning the circle, body tensed, a fierce scowl contorting his features as he searched for the most imminent threat.

Conversely, Wednesday stood relaxed, arms held loosely at her sides, her weight shifted on one hip, in a cavalier posture. Her dark eyes held Lilith's red ones, and she spoke.

"Power," Wednesday whispered, her face alight with triumph, her wicked smile glowing in the filtered light. The rain was thinning into a slight mist, the sun starting to build behind the grey, blanketing clouds.

"I'll make _you_ an offer," said Wednesday, her smile becoming more pronounced.

Shock crossed Lilith's face before her glare broke into an amused smile. She straightened out of her crouch.

"You?" she giggled, "My _dear_, what could you possibly offer _me?_ Have you decided to join our ranks after all?" she added, with fake innocence.

Wednesday scoffed. She shot Lilith a knowing smile, mocking her.

"Actually, I'd like to offer you what you offered me – Bend to _my_ will, or… suffer my displeasure." She said this last word with relish, caressing it, delighting in the anticipation of unleashing her sadistic imagination.

Lilith laughed, but it was stilted. "Silly child. In what world could you possibly be a match for me? For us?" Her eyes raked her minions, resting subtly on the redhead, who nodded slightly in response.

Joel was distracted by a slight movement to Lilith's left. At some unheard signal, one of the male vamps at Lilith's side lunged at Joel. Joel caught him around the throat and the two grappled, quickly becoming a struggling heap on the muddy ground.

Within moments of the struggle Joel's eyes widened in horror as he realized Lilith's plan. As the male, Joel knew him as Ethan, grappled with Joel, the redheaded female, Melody, flew at Wednesday's exposed back.

Joel struggled with Ethan, realizing with a start that he wasn't trying to kill him, just to restrain him – to keep him from protecting Wednesday.

Meanwhile, Melody launched herself at Wednesday. Wednesday remained immobile, smiling at Lilith. At the last second, as Melody reached a clawed hand out for Wednesday's throat, Wednesday spun, grabbed a handful of Melody's hair with inhuman speed, and kicked her feet out from under in the same movement.

When Joel looked up through a barrage of punches, he saw Wednesday standing over the prone body of Melody, her foot on the back of her neck, pressing her sputtering face into a puddle of mud.

As he looked, Wednesday pulled Melody's head out of the mud by her hair, and said, calmly and evenly, "Call him off" her eyes gesturing toward Joel and Ethan.

Lilith glared and growled. Wednesday raised an eyebrow.

She pressed Melody's face back into the mud, holding the girl's struggling form down by her neck. Melody's hands searched for purchase, but couldn't touch any part of Wednesday's body. Wednesday looked back to Lilith. Her face betrayed her annoyance but she made no move to follow Wednesday's command.

Wednesday decided to up the ante.

Removing her knife from her pocket (suddenly fiercely glad she'd stowed it - and not dropped it - before her desperate kiss with Joel), she brought the glinting blade down to the back of Melody's neck.

"One puncture here," she whispered seductively, pressing the tip of the knife along Melody's exposed spine, "and she'll drown herself," she finished, smiling.

The other vamps were growing anxious for their chance to join in the fray. It seemed as though Lilith was hesitant to allow more within harm's reach. Wednesday could hear the growling coming from the darker female, who was dying to come to the rescue of her last remaining sister. The male at Lilith's side was twitching with imagined moves as he watched Joel and Ethan.

"What about your 'family'," Wednesday mocked, "you'll stand by and watch them crumble to ash?"

She lifted Melody's head out of the mud. She sputtered and choked, gasping for breath.

"Save her, Lilith," Wednesday whispered. For a moment, the girl's mud-stained face searched for Lilith, her eyes alight with that blind hope that her mother-figure might come to her rescue after all.

Lilith's face was stone. Her eyes shone hatred at Wednesday, tinged with what looked like jealousy, and completely devoid of anything related to love or distress over the fate of her so-called daughter.

"So be it," said Wednesday softly.

She forced Melody's head back into the mud. Her struggling was more forceful now, and she ripped up the grass under her feet, her fingernails digging frantically into the mud.

Wednesday slid the blade between the vertebrae in her spine with one forceful stroke.

Immediately, her struggling ceased.

In the sudden silence, a cry that was somewhere between a scream and a sob rent the air. Wednesday raised her eyes to Lilith's once more.

Lilith looked past Wednesday as the smaller female launched herself across the clearing.

Lilith shouted, "Veronica, No!"

Wednesday stood, pulling the knife from Melody's body as she rose, and threw it with deadly accuracy into Veronica's forehead. The girl crumpled to the ground.

While the wound was not fatal, Wednesday knew it would at least knock her out cold for a while.

Despite the commotion of the side battle, Ethan had witnessed the maiming of the girls. With renewed vigor, he smashed a fist over Joel's head, throwing him off balance. Breaking free of Joel, he raced toward Wednesday.

"Stop!" Lilith shouted, sternly. Ethan froze as if suddenly paralyzed. A look of dismay crossed his face, but he quickly replaced it with a mask of hatred and duty. After a moment, he moved again, back to Lilith's side.

Joel rejoined Wednesday, breathing heavily. Wednesday glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He appeared unhurt. She turned back to Lilith.

"So," said Wednesday, "back to my offer." She crossed her arms across her chest.

Suddenly Joel tensed, feeling the weather shift. The other vamps felt it too. With a slight nod from Lilith, the vamp to her right left her side, heading back toward their car. The other, Ethan, drew out his umbrella again and held it over Lilith's head.

With a sudden smile, Lilith spoke.

"Ah, yes my dear. Actually, I have a _counter-offer_ for you."

A high-pitched screech filled the air as Lilith's car careened up the hill. With a quick swerve to the right, it took out Joel's motorcycle, sending it toppling down the steep, rocky incline and into the graveyard below. As the car reached the top of the hill, it smashed into Wednesday's beautiful Mercedes, busting up the glass and driving the rear end nearly up into the front seat.

At the same instant, Ethan unearthed a dagger, and hurled it at the distracted pair.

Joel saw the dagger just a second too late. In the first instant he spotted it, he was sure it was headed for Wednesday. He reached out to her, taking his eyes off the blade as he turned to grab her and pull her out of harm's way.

Because of this, he didn't notice the slight bend in the blade's trajectory.

Wednesday's jaw dropped as Joel fell to his knees. Her wide eyes swam with horror as she saw the knife's hilt protruding from the side of Joel's neck, his warm blood pouring down his chest and shoulder.

His eyes held hers for a moment before they rolled back into his head and his body collapsed to the ground.

Wednesday turned burning eyes back to Lilith. The force of her glare was staggering, but Lilith smiled.

"_My_ offer, dear, is this: come with us now. We'll patch up young Joel, you can join our little family and, well, we'll leave your family alone. Doesn't that sound fair? Or, you can refuse, of course, and well, we'll see you again. Of course, with the sun about to come out and poor Joel's bike ruined, we'll likely not see him again. Shame. What a waste," Lilith added with fake remorse.

"What is your decision?" she asked, her smile looking more like a snarl.

Wednesday's retort was interrupted by a sudden movement behind her. Veronica began to stir, and she rose, pulling the blade from her face as she did so. Upon seeing Wednesday, she almost pounced again, but Lilith called, "Veronica, no. Not now. You'll have your revenge. Pick up Melody and get in the car. We're leaving."

Veronica stalked past Wednesday, shooting her a glare of utmost hatred, and picked her sister's broken body up out of the mud before stalking off up to the car.

"Now Wednesday, last chance. Coming?" said Lilith, sounding bored.

"Bite me," said Wednesday.

To this, Lilith smiled hugely, "Soon dear, very soon." She swept off after the other vampires toward the car.

Wednesday returned her attend back to Joel, who was rapidly losing blood. It was mingling with the mud now, creating red-brown spirals in the sodden earth.

She ripped a sleeve from her jacket, removed the knife and wrapped the jacket around his neck, trying to staunch the bleeding without suffocating him. Looking up to the sky, she saw that the grey blanket that had covered the afternoon sky was breaking apart. With a sudden surge of panic, she realized that in a matter of minutes there wouldn't be a single bit of cloud cover left and her field dressing would be of little importance once Joel went up in flames like a human torch.

There was no shelter on the ridge save for the weeping willow, which wouldn't provide adequate shade in full sunshine. She ran to the edge of the ridge, looking down into the graveyard. At the far edge, a bit of forest lined the graveyard, but it was probably more than 100 yards away. Lilith was right, without Joel's bike, they weren't getting far.

Panic hitched her breathing as she scanned for something, _anything._ Suddenly, she saw it. If only she could get him that far.

She ran back to Joel.

"Joel? Joel? Can you hear me? Wake up, Joel, please wake up!"

Nothing.

"Dammit, Joel," she growled.

She looped her arms under his arms and started to drag him, resting his head on her chest, as she walked backwards toward the ridge.

The sky was already morphing from the cool grey into a dirty yellow as the sun burnt away the remnants of the thunderstorm.

Once she reached the ridge, Joel's body was significantly easier to drag, but now she had to worry about the large rocks that littered the slope and the smaller rocks that slid away when she stepped on them.

_Won't do either of us any favors if I break my neck on this stupid slope,_ Wednesday thought bitterly, but she kept dragging.

At the bottom of the slope, Joel stirred. He couldn't speak, nor did he open his eyes, but he twitched slightly.

"Joel? Can you stand? Joel, can you hear me?" Wednesday gasped into his ear, hoping against hope that he'd answer. He didn't.

She only had maybe 20 feet to go, but her strength was failing and time was running out. "C'mon Joel, you gotta help me a little," she managed through gritted teeth, sweat pouring down her face.

As the first rays of sunlight peeked through the clouds, she reached it. Muscles screaming, she dragged Joel's body the last few fet up to the mausoleum. It was the biggest tomb around; maybe 8 feet tall, in marble, with a small enclosed chapel area at its center. She wrenched open the wooden door, and pulled Joel into the dark space.

The inside was small. The two of them nearly filled the entire space. She leaned Joel up against the small altar in the middle and searched for matches to light the candles adorning the walls. Either side was adorned with a coffin, a husband and wife by the looks of it, but the center was left open for family to come in and pray. Wednesday heaved the door shut with a groan, slid an old candleholder into the door handle to serve as some form of lock, and collapsed unceremoniously onto the floor.

She knew she should probably go back outside and search for water, or better yet, a phone – hers was probably still in her car, whatever was left of it. But she found that her body wouldn't move. Instead, she dragged herself over to where Joel lay, wrapped him in her arms (using her body heat to help prevent shock), and fought a losing battle against her drooping eyelids.

In the end, she lost.


	15. Entombed

**The saga continues. Please Review!**

**Enjoy!**

**~TLD  
**

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**Part Fifteen: Entombed**

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A fierce shaking woke her. She peeled her eyelids open against the crushing weight of fatigue.

It was dark. More than half of the candles she'd lit had already melted into oblivion or blown out in the drafty mausoleum.

She squinted her eyes, trying to figure out where the shaking was coming from. She looked down at Joel.

He was paler than a corpse, his lips clearly blue despite the faint light. He was drenched. Sweat lined his forehead and blood soaked his shirt and motorcycle jacket.

It was slight, but as she watched, she thought he appeared to be shaking. She reached out a hand to touch his cheek.

She raised her hand, and as it moved into focus, she realized with a start, that the shaking - was her.

Now that she thought about, she was freezing. She couldn't keep her teeth from chattering and the shivering made her strained and battered body scream in pain.

She looked down at her shirt. She was drenched in Joel's blood.

The sight of all that blood jolted her to her senses. _How much blood had he lost?_ She thought. _Does blood loss hurt the undead?_ She tried to wrap her mind around it. Obviously, he wasn't a pile of ash, so… did that mean he was going to be alright?

She leaned in close to his face. It was faint, but she could feel his breath on her cheek. _Well, that's a good sign at least_.

She sighed, not sure what to do next. With a groan, she forced her wet hoodie over her head, and stripped down to her only still-dry layer, a thin, black cami she was fiercely glad she'd randomly put on that morning.

Being careful of Joel's bandaged neck, she removed his jacket and shirt too. _I wonder if vampires get hypothermia_… she mused. _Well, at least this way he'll be dry and warm. That is, if he manages to survive_.

She picked a few of the drier articles of clothing and arranged them under Joel's back so he wouldn't be lying on the stone floor, before wrapping her arms around him and burrowing her face into his chest. Slightly warmer already, she drifted back to sleep.

As sleep claimed her, a foggy thought drifted through her mind - a thought she'd never, _ever_ had before. Had she been awake enough, the thought would have chilled her to the bone, but as it was, she only barely noticed its alienness.

…_we're gonna be ok…_

_Wait. __**We?**_

And then she was out.

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Joel floated slowly out of the warm blur of unconsciousness and awoke painfully into reality. Stabbing pains radiated outward from his neck and his entire body felt like he'd been hit by a train – one of those trains with the cow-kicker on the front – twice. He tried to shut down his sense of touch in an effort to maintain consciousness. The less pain his body could feel, or, more aptly, the less pain his brain was aware of, the less likely it was to go back into shock to protect itself. He reached out with his other senses instead.

Opening his eyes was a chore, but the smells reaching him were strange and unfamiliar, and so finally, self-preservation won out over the pain.

It was dark, but Joel's eyes were exceptionally keen in darkness, and so he saw the tomb in stark detail. The roof was pretty tall, stone, and angular. He felt the stone on his back and, and despite the overwhelming desire to remain still, began to sit up to investigate. As he moved, he suddenly noticed the warm, soft presence on his chest, and he stopped.

Propping his head slightly, he looked down upon her. Her raven hair appeared almost blue to Joel in the surrounding darkness, and her pale face was nearly luminescent.

Absorbed, he lost his hold over his sense of touch. But as the waves of pain from his injuries reached him, he also felt the softness of Wednesday's face on his chest, the tight embrace of her arm around his ribs, and the gentle breeze of her breath against his skin.

He smiled. And then winced as a new pain sliced through him.

_Worth it, _he thought to himself.

But even as he thought it, he knew he couldn't stand a few more stabs of pain like the last one, or he'd pass out again.

He couldn't see outside, but he knew instinctively that night had fallen some time ago, and that they really shouldn't linger where Lilith or her minions could drop in at any time. He really couldn't afford to pass out again.

He knew what he needed to jump-start the healing process.

He just didn't know where he was going to get it.

* * *

Wednesday was leaning over him. Her hair hung around her face like a blue-black shroud, hiding half her face in shadow. The other half was sickly lit in the dying light from a flickering candle over her head. As he stared, he realized her lips were moving, and with a shock of horror, he realized he couldn't hear her. He tried to speak, to tell her he couldn't hear her, to shout for help, but he had no voice. He reached out for her, brought a shaking hand to her face. He cupped her cheek with his hand.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. Despite it all, he felt a warm swelling in his chest. Without thinking, he started to sit up, needing to be closer to her, to take her in his arms.

He'd risen maybe an inch when her arm shot out, pushing down on his shoulder, preventing him from moving. His brow furrowed and he looked up at her questioningly. Suddenly, her eyes shot open, but instead of the onyx glow he was used to, her eyes glowed a sickening red. Her raven hair morphed into the billowy blond curls that haunted his nightmares, and her face curled around a sweetly sinister smile.

"Shh," she whispered. And with a sudden lurch, she pounced.

Joel shot up with a strangled cry, shaking with fury, fear, and cold, drenched in sweat.

"Shh!!" Wednesday half-shouted, half-whispered. "Joel! Stop shouting! Are you _trying _to get us killed??"

Joel's eyes finally found focus and he saw Wednesday sitting next to him on the stone floor. She watched him, carefully, as though he might start shouting again. For a moment, they sat staring at each other.

But then, with a lightning fast movement, Joel lifted Wednesday off the floor and pinned her to the opposite wall by her throat, her feet kicking a foot from the floor.

"Wha-?" she gasped before she lost breath. She scratched and dug her nails into Joel's hands, but his grip was unbreakable. And then he was shouting again.

"What the Hell is going on here? What have you done with Wednesday? Don't fuck with me, I swear to God, Lilith, I'll rip your fucking head off right now." Joel's eyes were red in his fury and his body shook with rage.

"Joe-" Wednesday choked out. Her face was turning blue. "Stop." Her wide eyes were fluttering as her body flirted with unconsciousness. Harnessing all of her willpower, she managed to choke out, "Joel, you idiot, it's me, Wednesda-"

Something about her tone jolted him to his senses and he dropped her with a shock. She curled up into a ball on the ground, coughing and sputtering. When she'd finally caught her breath, she looked up and shot Joel a look of disgust. "What the Hell? Is that the thanks I get for saving your sorry ass?"

Joel just stared at his own hands, as if unable to believe they were capable of such disgrace. Finally, he looked up at her. Wednesday noted his gaze was strange, as if he was waiting for her to suddenly sprout horns or something. She stared back, waiting.

Finally he sank to his knees on the floor. He bowed his head into his hands so low his forehead nearly touched the floor.

Out of the silence, he whispered. "If I pass out again, you need to get out of here. Get back to your house. Go without me. It's not safe for you here."

She started to protest, "Joel-" before he interrupted her.

"Trust me," he said, his voice low and empty. "Just promise me. Ok?"

His voice grew weaker on each word. When she didn't answer, he prompted her again, in a whisper, "Ok?"

Her voice wasn't much louder. "Ok."

And then the darkness claimed him.


	16. What Lies Beneath

**Just a heads-up ~ another pretty sadistic chapter. Heed the rating ~M~ **

**Please Review, let me know how I'm doing. Still MUCH more to come. **

**FYI ~ I was listening to "What Lies Beneath" by Breaking Benjamin while writing this - I think it enhances the experience. That and, "Into the Nothing." But that's just me. If other songs come to mind while you read, I'd love to hear about them.**

**Anyway, buckle up - WHOLE new side of Joel today. **

**Enjoy~ TLD  
**

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**Part Sixteen: What Lies Beneath**

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Small, agonized moans interrupted the steady drip-drop of blood draining into the silver basin on the floor. Veronica cradled the cold body of her sister-of-sorts, Melody, in her arms, dissipating her fear and sadness over her sister's comatose state with tiny moans that became increasingly irritating to Lilith.

"Veronica," Lilith chided sternly. "Control yourself."

Veronica's eyes flashed with anger. "She's not breathing," she nearly hissed.

Lilith's voice sounded utterly bored. "It is of no matter. The boy's blood will revive her," she added, lazily. She gestured to the teenage boy, hanging from the ceiling by his ankles, his bruised and bloody face slack in death, distorted in echoing remnants of his final moments of pain. A deep gash in his neck trailed a thick river of blood down the side of his face and into his hair, dripping steadily into the silver basin beneath.

Veronica was not convinced. "Yea?" she scoffed, "and how do you propose she drink it?" she added sarcastically.

Lilith's eyes darkened threateningly. In a deadened monotone, full of venom, she said, "Her body will awake. The body will not allow the soul to slip away. As long as the body remains intact, it will work to ensure survival. When consciousness fails, the beast awakens and takes control to preserve itself." She smiled dangerously, "you shall see."

* * *

The darkness was heavy. Joel felt it pressing down on his lungs, crushing him beneath its infinite weight. His head throbbed and his arms and legs were pinned beneath the invisible dark weight, pressing on his eyes, crushing his lungs. He fought to keep from succumbing to darkness, to breaking beneath the unfathomable pressure.

He was only vaguely aware of his surroundings. He heard a faint beating of a heart nearby, smelled the faint scents he associated with Wednesday.

He fought the crushing darkness.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but then he heard movement and smelled a new scent. His concentration was broken by the sound of a thud. The weight of darkness increased.

As he lost his hold over it, he noticed with a shock that the heartbeat was gone.

The beast awoke. Hungry. Starving. Burning. Muscles aching.

Alert.

With sudden awareness, the hunter surveyed the small room, the reddish tint of thirst coloring his vision, bringing details into startling clarity.

He was alone.

But the room bore the traces of another. A female. He could almost see the trail of her scent on the air, of her residual heat on the cold floor and chilly night air. He followed the trail out of the tiny room.

Once out in the night air, the hunter felt a surge of relief. Scents, tastes, and sounds from miles around hit him in a rush, and, despite his intense hunger, he felt alive. He was just about to track the smell of the female, when a far off scream reached his ears.

It was female, and perhaps a mile away – in the opposite direction of the other trail. He hesitated for only a moment before another shriek reached his ears. The sound of her agony decided him. It was too sweet to pass up.

He shot through the graveyard like a bullet, running parallel to a nearby highway. From what he could make out, the sounds were coming from a point about 50 feet away from the highway. Based on the topography around him, he was convinced that the female was somewhere in the forest near the highway.

As he drew closer, thrilling to the feel of his body darting around tombstones, using the exhilaration of the hunt to distract himself from the searing agony of thirst and blood deprivation, he sensed another presence.

The male was laughing. She screamed again. A fresh whiff of blood filled the air, and the female whimpered in pain. Now she was crying. Pleading. He heard the sounds of struggle and of a body crawling through leaves and fallen branches.

He could smell his adrenaline. He reeked of sweat and blood and alcohol and sex, and he lumbered through the underbrush, laughing as his prey struggled to evade him. He'd already played with his prey and was savoring the sounds of her fear and pain before he went for the kill.

The hunter smiled. This male was sloppy; his prey was getting away.

She screamed again as she caught her foot on a tree root and fell to the ground. The hunter's eyes nearly rolled back in his head from the pleasure of her agonized scream. He was close now. Closer to her than the male. He would take away the prey and then hunt the man who thought himself a hunter. He smiled. _I'll show him how it's done_, he thought savagely.

Finally, he saw her. She was untangling her torn and tattered party dress from a sticker bush on the edge of the forest. Her face was dirty and coated with blood, her right cheek swelling from being struck. Her feet were bare and bleeding and tearstains traced lines down her grimy face. She hadn't seen him yet.

He arranged himself in a calm stance, suddenly realizing he wasn't wearing a shirt. _Damn_. That would put a damper on his ability to look suave, but it didn't matter, she wouldn't have much time to think about it.

Suddenly she saw him. Abandoning reason in her fear, she ran toward him.

"Please, help me. He's – there's a man back there – our car broke down – my husband – I don't know if he's – and he – he's coming. Please, please, help me," she whimpered. She nearly fell into his arms.

"Shh," he crooned. "I've got you," he added, a smile in his voice.

Her body tensed, as reason flooded in. She pulled back, "Who are you? What are you doing here? Why –" questions poured out of her as she tried to rip herself free of his grasp and continue running.

He gripped her elbows and held her close. With slowly reddening eyes, he stared deeply into her blue ones. He poured his will into her, locking her in his thrall. _Do not struggle, do not fight. Stay. Stay with me_. His will poured into her and her body relaxed.

He ran his hand through her knotted hair and cupped her dirt-stained face in his hand. His hand traveled down her face and rested on her throat. He felt the strong pulse of her blood against her skin. She remained still, though she trembled slightly under his touch. He leaned his head toward hers, his thirst pulling him and anticipation vibrating through his veins. He moved slowly, savoring the moment – tasting her fear and scent on the breeze, feeling her warmth, and the softness of her skin – before sinking his teeth into the fragrant blood beneath.

His lips had just grazed the skin on her neck, when a new scent and sound reached him.

He, a new male, was stumbling from the highway, screaming. "Diane? Oh my God, Diane! Where are you? Help! Someone's taken my wife! Diane? Help!! Oh God, somebody please help me!"

His voice shook her and she nearly broke free of her trance. The hunter drew back to look at her face. Her eyes were glazed over, but her brow furrowed into a look of concern. A single tear welled up in the corner of her eye and dripped down her cheek as she closed her eyes, as if understanding she'd never live to see her husband again.

The hunter froze, confused. His thirst stabbed at him and he felt his body weakening. As a strong wave of desire pierced him, he poised for the strike.

"Stay away from her," a lazy, languid voice called out from the trees.

Joel stirred beneath the beast's hold. The male monster had finally caught up to his prey. He eyed Joel speculatively. Seeing only a young man embracing 'his' woman, he underestimated Joel. He didn't even bother with trying to look threatening.

The beast within Joel flared up and the hunter stepped away from the woman's body. In a strangely ironic gesture, he placed his body between hers and the male's.

The man continued the charade. "Stay away from my wife, you bastard," he choked out, almost laughing at his own private joke.

The hunter smiled and took a small step toward him. "Certainly." He let his thirst burn red in his eyes and felt his fangs grow in his mouth.

Forming a grotesquely wicked smile, he watched the man's face as he slowly realized his danger.

"Wha- what are you?" he sputtered, moving clumsily away from Joel's body.

The hunter smiled, and leapt high, closing the distance between him and his prey in one fluid bound. With inches separating them, he answered, "Thirsty."

He ripped and he drank, he broke slowly and sweetly, and the man's screams filled the clearing.

Sated, the hunter collapsed against a tree trunk, breathing hard.

The ground was cool, and the breeze was laden with dew – dawn only an hour or so away. With each deep breath, the beast lost ground and Joel wrestled for control. The warm blood in his system healed ripped arteries and closed his open wounds.

As Joel came to, the final images of the serial killer's life were flickering past his eyes, and a nauseated feeling spread through his stomach. With a shock, the images died and he realized he had no idea where he was. Slowly, the images from the beast's memory filtered through and he looked out into the clearing where the woman stood as if paralyzed.

Joel suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of nausea at what he might have done – what he almost did – to that poor woman.

In the distance he could hear the woman's husband shouting and stumbling, as if by some miracle, toward her. From where he sat, too afraid to go anywhere near her, he released her from the thrall.

Shaking as if with chill, she spun around, searching for danger. She was crying, sobs racking her chest. Suddenly, she heard his voice. She happened to have her face toward Joel, so he saw it happen. She heard his voice and her crying stopped. Her tortured eyes lit up and her dirty, tired face lit up like she'd heard the voice of God.

Without realizing it, Joel's eyes filled with tears. He'd never seen a face of such intense joy before. With a devastating wave of self-disgust, he doubled over and threw up. Long after he'd lost the contents of his stomach, he laid, curled up in a ball in the mud, shaking like an addict or an epileptic as panic, self-disgust, fear, relief, and anger so acute it felt like a physical burning, racked his body and tortured his mind.

And the final hour before dawn ticked away.


	17. Laying Low and Lower

**Yet another chapter - I'm on a writing-roll. We'll see how long it holds up.**

**Joel wrestles with his demons.**

**Next chapter in the works, and its a biggie, so hang in there.**

**Please Review!**

**Enjoy~TLD  
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**Part Seventeen: Laying Low and Lower**

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The phone rang. Once. Twice.

"Addams' residence. This is Mrs. Addams speaking."

Joel momentarily pondered how Morticia's languid voice was more suited for the bedroom than for answering the phone, before answering in a rush.

"Mrs. Addams, it's Joel. I just wanted to check – Has Wednesday gotten home yet?" Joel held his breath, fearing the implications if her answer was no.

"Yes," Morticia said. Joel let out his breath in a whoosh. "Would you like to speak to her?" Morticia's voice asked.

Joel paused for a moment, and then answered, "Um, no, that's ok. Thanks Mrs. Addams."

He moved to hang up the phone, but Morticia's voice stopped him. "Joel?"

"Yes, Mrs. Addams?" Joel prompted.

"Are you alright?"

Joel swallowed. "Um, yea. Thanks."

"Would you like me to send Lurch to pick you up? You are welcome to stay here," Morticia continued, her cool, seductive voice warming slightly into motherly concern.

Joel twitched anxiously. The offer was tempting – a safe, cool, dark place to lay low – but the thought of being so close to so many people he cared about in his current state made him nauseated. The hunter twitched perilously close to the surface. The taste of human blood lingered on the back of Joel's tongue, and a hunger that he had meticulously squelched over the past few years was now bubbling menacingly in his stomach.

"Thanks Mrs. Addams, but I think I'm gonna lay low at my place for a bit," Joel attempted nonchalance. "Maybe, I'll stop by later tonight," the hunter twitched within, "or something," Joel added hastily.

"Very well. Goodbye, Joel," Morticia added, a knowing tone coloring her voice.

"Bye," the word choked in Joel's throat. He hung up before she could continue the conversation.

He was bloodstained, half-naked, the sun was moments from rising, and he was maybe five miles from his motel. It wasn't like he could call a cab in his current state. At least he'd had his phone and wallet in his jeans.

He longed for his bike. _Damn._ He almost moaned aloud. He loved that bike.

He sat down, hard, on a tree stump in the forest and cradled his head in his hands. _Think_, he commanded himself. He found his thoughts were clouded by a repeated litany of _Shit. I'm fucked. _He forced himself to keep thinking despite the negativity.

In the end, the best plan he could come up with was to run through the woods in the general direction of town – and his motel – and hope he found some shelter before true dawn. He stood, skeptically, and ran.

* * *

Morticia felt eyes on her back as she hung up the phone. Without turning she said, "He's alright."

When she heard no reply, she began to turn, "He's-"

But when she turned, Wednesday was already gone.

* * *

In the end, he didn't make it in time.

Luckily, the forest bordered the local reservoir, and, while the foliage wasn't thick enough to provide deep shade in broad daylight, a nearby runoff drain was plenty big enough, dark enough, and adequately dry enough for Joel to hole up a few meters within its depths.

Curled up like a rat, his shoes and jeans getting drenched in the small river of storm water draining down the pipe, Joel laid his head down on his knees, drowning in self-pity, self-loathing, fear, anger, and a sickness so deep that he struggled every second from succumbing to the temptation to throw himself out into the sunlight and ending his suffering.

If he hadn't known - from experience - that the suffering waiting for him after death was immeasurably worse than anything on earth, he likely would have lost the battle of will.

But as it was, he struggled to find a reason to let the monster live, to find a way that he could still be Joel despite the evidence to contrary, to find a way that he could ever have the girl he loved when he was so irreparably damaged, distorted, and twisted, that he was just as likely to kill her as love her.

_What the Hell am I?_ he thought, disgusted. Over the past few years, he'd been sure he'd gained control over the monster, but now he wasn't sure where the monster ended and where Joel began.

_I should leave._ It was the safest way. The noblest. There was just one problem with it.

_Lilith_.

She wouldn't leave. She wouldn't let Wednesday's insult stand.

_She'll just have to die then_, Joel thought.

Then a small, sarcastic voice in his head bit back; _Sure, you've been doing a bang-up job of that so far. What was tonight? Twice you've almost bitten the dust? _

Joel dropped his head back into his knees, momentarily too overcome with depression and disgust to form a coherent thought.

It was then that she came to him. Her transparent form sat down beside him in the muck.

"Joel, Joel," her soft voice chided.

Joel didn't even lift his head.

"Lilith," he croaked.

"Look at you, my darling, huddling in a sewer drain like a rat? What has become of you?" her voice was soft, compelling.

"I did not make you for this. You should be a prince, a king. Women will fall at your feet. You're beautiful, Joel. Strong. Compelling. Why should you rot away like this? Over some silly girl? Tsk. Tsk." Lilith continued.

"She will fade, Joel. They are but flowers that bloom in the morning and fade by nightfall. We are forever. Do not be short-sighted. You are much too clever for that."

The silence lengthened.

"It does not do to cling to the past." Lilith continued. "The girl you loved is already gone. Forget your petty grudge and rejoin us. Soon the sands of time will turn and we shall be the only family you have left."

Lilith let the impact of her words sink in, before adding, "Of course… it doesn't have to go that way…"

Joel's head shot up. His eyes, wild with fury, caught Lilith's, but instead, her eyes were laughing with satisfaction.

She shot him a knowing smile, "So, you've already considered the possibility." She smiled a wide, crocodile smile. "Of course you did, a clever lad such as yourself."

The fury dropped out of Joel's eyes and they returned to their deadened glaze. He dropped his head back into his knees.

"I won't. I won't damn her as you did me," he answered in deadened monotone, his voice muffled by his jeans.

Lilith's voice was subtly amused and dripping with sarcasm when she answered, "Well then, do tell me, Joel, what's your plan?"

Joel didn't answer.


	18. Unholy Martyr

**Some heavy Joel-Wednesday drama. Stay tuned for the next installment - which picks up RIGHT where this one leaves off ;)**

**Please Review!**

**Enjoy~TLD**

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**Part Eighteen: Unholy Martyr**

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Wednesday sat in the darkness. Waiting.

After a while she heard movement in the hall. She gripped the stake at her side – just in case.

He paused outside the door. He was dripping on the doorstep, but he was immensely pleased he'd thought to pick a room whose door faced the empty lot behind the motel rather than the highway to the front. In the darkness, no one had noticed the half-naked, dripping wet man who seemed to materialize out of the wooded lot like a wraith.

Exhausted, he wanted nothing more than a shower and his bed, but when he reached the door to his room, he froze in his tracks.

She was here.

He was just about to retreat, when his pride stung him. _Don't be a coward_, he scolded himself. Sighing heavily, he opened the door to his room.

He saw her, plain as day despite the pitch black of the room. He knew she saw him in the silhouette of the outdoor light through the open door.

She was sitting on his bed. Still. Silent.

He moved with deliberate slowness toward the bed. He was within inches of her body.

Her fragrance had filled the room in the time she'd spent waiting for him. It was beautiful. And appetizing. Her heart rate sped slightly as he approached her. And Joel felt a reaching in his gut that he couldn't explain.

He stopped at the head of the bed. Swallowed hard. Reached out his hand.

And turned on the light on the nightstand.

She blinked in the sudden light.

He tried not to retreat too fast, but his mind was begging his body to run away.

He closed and locked the outside door without looking at Wednesday, and then began to move into the bathroom. He needed a shower – and a little space – desperately.

"You're wet," Wednesday's cold voice stopped him in his tracks.

He didn't turn around, but dropped his head where he stood.

"Better wet than bloody," he replied, his voice a cold echo of hers.

"Anyone I know?" she pressed.

He sighed heavily, resignation weighing his shoulders down like a lead weight. Finally, he turned, and his tired, weary, and burdened eyes found Wednesday's.

She was impassive – stoic – as usual. Though she lounged on his bed, her arms were tightly crossed around her chest and her head was cocked slightly to the side as if she was studying a particularly interesting subject.

Her eyes were cold. Not judgmental. But cold all the same.

Joel sighed, and said in a voice of utmost exhaustion, "Does it matter?"

At this she smiled slightly – obviously taking his meaning in the opposite way that he intended.

Her eyes grew slightly wicked and a sardonic smile curled her lips. "Of course not."

She raised her eyebrows, "Save for a few exceptions, of course. Blood is blood, after all."

Had Joel been in even a slightly less self-deprecating mood, he would have laughed at her answer. As it was, he curled a tiny smile that didn't reach his eyes, before turning his back on her, mumbling something about a shower, grabbing a handful of spare clothes, and shutting the bathroom door behind him.

* * *

She wasn't sure why she'd come. If anyone had asked her, she wouldn't have even been able to manufacture an excuse. It was just a feeling in her gut.

Something was changing.

The cards were about to fall. She had to be there to see it happen.

* * *

He turned the water to near scalding, hoping to burn away more than just the blood and grime from his body and bow his head under the onslaught, watching, bleary-eyed, as the brown-tinged water swirled down the drain.

In the warmth of the shower, he could almost let go of the sickening images of the bloody and broken body of the serial rapist in the muddy underbrush. More difficult to let go was the hunger in his stomach and Lilith's words stabbing at his mind.

Suddenly, her image broke through his self-pity and disgust.

Her still body, water dripping from her raven hair, standing over the broken vampire at her feet, like an avenging goddess – Her eyes burning into his before he lost consciousness, a mixture of anger and concern welling in the blackness – Her soft, warm body curled up in his arms on the cold mausoleum floor…

She'd done what he'd asked and left. She'd trusted him, and now she'd come back.

Despite it all, despite the many, crushing layers of hate, fear, disgust, and self-loathing, he felt a swelling in his heart. A tiny smile curled his lips, and a new hunger grew in his belly that had nothing to do with thirst.

Without meaning to, he was suddenly remembering that fierce kiss – Wednesday's small hands gripping his face, fingers twining in his hair, her warm, sweet, soft lips, the fragrance coming off her skin, amplified by the rain dripping down her face, glistening off her skin like diamonds in the pale light.

He didn't see where his thoughts were headed until it was too late.

Suddenly, he heard Lilith's voice in his head again. She'd commanded him to kill her, to take her, and he almost had.

_What if…_

His mind ranged out and another devastating wave of self-loathing hit him – tinged now by a deep and crushing wave of sadness.

_I love her_, he thought. _I have to leave her._

He let the waves of torment roll over him for another few moments before he shut off the water, toweled off, and threw on fresh jeans.

Gazing into the mirror, he saw that he was shaking. He didn't want to do what he knew he must.

_Don't be a coward_, he thought, over and over, and he watched his reflection as his form slowly stopped shaking. He set his face in a mask of disinterest, and left the bathroom, his fresh shirt carelessly forgotten on the sink.

She watched him in the low light. He was highlighted by the florescent glow streaming out of the open bathroom door, hiding most of his face in shadow.

He was shirtless, and his bare chest bore a network of white scars. She felt a strange urge to trace them with her fingers. She twitched, but didn't move from her seat.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat. He stopped, and stared at his feet.

So he was surprised when Wednesday spoke.

"Pugsley is rather put out with you, you know," she said, without any hint of sarcasm.

Joel almost choked out a laugh at her unexpected comment, but he managed to squelch it, and instead looked at her with a confused, if not slightly pained, expression.

"How so?" he replied, his voice only politely interested – although curiosity was burning inside.

She adjusted her position on the bed, sitting up more fully now.

"First of all, you took off, right after he finished fixing your bike, for a big vampire showdown – and you didn't even invite him, and secondly, you managed to completely destroy said bike only minutes after he fixed it," she relayed, smiling slightly at her brother's anger as she spoke. "Tsk, tsk," she mocked, raising an eyebrow.

Joel smiled despite himself. Then, realizing what he was doing, he smothered the smile and returned to his disinterested, deadpan expression.

"Guess I'll owe him an apology," he said.

"Hardly," said Wednesday, scathingly.

A moment of silence passed as they stared at each other.

"Spit it out, Joel," said Wednesday suddenly, breaking Joel from his trance.

"I'm sorry-" he began in a rush.

But Wednesday moved quicker.

Suddenly she was on her feet beside the bed.

"Don't," she said coldly.

Her eyes blazed black fire and her eyebrows arched in a scornful and dangerous way. She crossed her arms.

"Joel," she said, slowly, and clearly. "Do you imagine that I _require_ your presence in my life?" she said, coldly.

Before he could muster a response, she continued.

"If you would like to play the martyr and suffer to 'save me,' by all means, do as you wish. But, know this, I do not _need_ to be saved, nor do I desire your suffering – yet," she added seductively. She smiled a slightly sinister smile and moved toward him.

Reflexively, he took a tiny step backwards.

She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows mockingly, her eyes dancing with black fire, "Are you frightened of me, Joel?" She echoed his words to her in the graveyard.

When he said nothing, she continued, moving slowly toward him.

"Perhaps you should be," she began, conversationally, "Of the two of us, only I have killed two vampires in the last day. Only I have maimed two more. And, if I remember rightly, if it were not for me, you would be a pile of ash twice over by now."

She stopped, inches from his body, his back pressed against the wall.

"So, make your choice. Suffer for nothing, or fight for something."

She was close – too close. A part of him ached to back up, but he was cornered. The irony hit him slowly – the fiercest predator of humankind, backed up against the wall by a small, pale-faced girl. He didn't have time to think about that though, because the other part of him was aching to move forward. Aching to touch. Aching to take what she offered.

The silence between them lengthened as the battle raged within Joel.

Their bodies were opposites. Wednesday stood calmly, relaxed. Only her eyes betrayed her anger, her ferocity. Joel's body strained in stiffness, his fists balled so tightly that his knuckles nearly glowed white, his jaw clenched, and his eyes burning with an intense fire of desire and restraint.

It was like the graveyard all over again. One voice in Joel's head screamed at him to maintain control, to hold, to restrain, to fight. But the other pulled at him, burned him, tormented him, whispered seductively in his ear… _Take her_.

Only this time, the voice wasn't Lilith's and Joel saw the same burning desire he felt was mirrored in Wednesday's eyes.

With a movement that felt like a sudden rush of air from his lungs, a deep refreshing breath, Joel made a choice.

He stopped fighting himself and reached out for the girl he knew he'd fight for, and alongside, no matter the cost, because the alternative – giving her up – was unendurable.

And so, he made, in his estimation, the most selfish decision of his life, and pulled Wednesday into his arms. For a moment, he felt true fear. _What if I hurt her? What if I lose control? What if my selfish wish to keep her ends up getting her killed?_

But the look in Wednesday's eyes quelled him. She was unafraid. She stared back with glowing onyx eyes, her face alight with triumph and arousal. She looked strong and determined. She was right; vamps had a reason to fear her.

_Maybe we can win this after all_, Joel thought wryly.

Joel smiled the first truly untroubled smile of the day, and pressed his lips tenderly against Wednesday's.

What he was unprepared for was her reaction.

Wednesday had never spent a day of her life in fear; confusion, irritation, desire, vindictive pleasure, sadistic revenge, and cool detachment, sure – but fear? Never. For Wednesday, the world was simple. There was only what she wanted, and what she took.

So even now, as she prepared to open herself up to a new vulnerability beyond anything she'd ever experienced, she felt only desire and need. And what she desired, Wednesday took.

She wasn't a prude, by any stretch of the imagination. It wasn't some moral compass that had left her untouched; she'd just never found a man she didn't detest, let alone one she actively desired. She wasn't frightened by the fact she'd never had a man in that way. Even more, as she contemplated the vulnerability she foresaw, she couldn't help but feel that the risk was greatly overshadowed by the rising surge of power she felt as she stared into Joel's eyes.

He was hers. She knew she had him.

So when he kissed her softly, her fingers gripped him roughly and she deepened the kiss, pressing ferociously before pulling away slowly, longingly, her breathing speeding up and her body beckoning Joel closer.

He ached and strained, and with a tiny moan of both desire and rebellion, he pressed his body back to Wednesday's.

Smiling to herself, she took a step backwards, pulling him with her, toward the bed.

Joel froze.

He pulled his face back from Wednesday's by a fraction of an inch and caught her eyes. His brow crumpled in confusion and he raised an eyebrow – the question obvious on his face.

She smiled wickedly back.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

Her eyes narrowed. "I know it's been a few years since you've last seen me, but do you imagine that, in your absence, I've _ever_ done something I don't want to?" she replied in a both scathing and seductive voice.

Joel smiled slightly, "There isn't a person on earth that could make you do something you didn't want to do," Joel replied softly, smiling, and rested his forehead on hers.

Joel felt his body warm and his heart leap. She wanted him. She cared for him as he cared for her. Despite it all, what he was, what he'd become, what he'd brought upon her, she wanted him. For a small moment, with his head resting against hers, her warm body in his arms, he felt a sweet, swelling lightness that he imagined could only be felt in Heaven.

And then, with a snap of memory, he felt anxious, unsure.

Joel was not a stranger to sex.

Lilith encouraged her minions to 'bond' and occasionally rewarded them by taking them into her own bed.

She'd taken Joel after his first kill on the day of his 'rebirth.' He'd been shaken and feral and clinging to new life as only one who'd spent time in Hell could possibly understand. After his kill, his feral intensity had faded slightly into confusion and disorientation. He'd started running – too frightened of what he'd become and what'd he done to stand still and face facts – but she'd caught up to him, stroked him, coddled him, calmed him, and took him to bed.

At the time, he'd thought it had brought him back to his senses. He'd thought it evidence of Lilith's affection for him. He knew now it was only another way of taking from him.

And she trained her students in the same art of taking – taking pain and pleasure and life and love and innocence. When it came to vampire sex, the credo was – take or be taken. Joel soon learned that to fight the advances of one of his 'sisters' was to be shamed and humiliated before being tortured into submission. So when they tried to take, he took back. In this case, 'love' was truly a battlefield – often more brutal that combat practice.

Joel had no experience of sex within love.

He felt sick with himself again. _How could I possibly be good enough for her?_ _I'm a monster._

He pulled back again.

She looked up at him. He was a bit wild-eyed, his eyes welling with tears but flashing with stress. His jaw was clenched like he was just about to say something he really didn't want to. She was going to have to yell at him again, she knew. He was about to try and save her from the big, bad, Joel-monster – again. He just didn't get it.

She put a small hand to his cheek, and smiled, her eyes boring into the flashing anxiety of his own, warming him, reassuring him. At the feel of her hand, his jaw relaxed and he unknowingly rested his weight heavier into her hand.

After a long moment, he smiled. And with a sigh that was both a relief of giving into desire and a mustering of courage, he lifted her off her feet in a sudden, sweeping motion, and laid her gently on the bed.


	19. Stolen Moments

**_Quick Note: I just added a few new phrases - if you read the chapter already, it's basically the same - only slightly more sensual_ - Enjoy ~ TLD**

**Ok kids, here it is. Now remember, this fanfic is rated ~M~, so head the warning. This chapter is overtly sexual and somewhat graphic. But, I happen to be of the opinion that if you're going to write a love scene, you better do it right - so it's beautiful, romantic, and, of course, oh so slightly tinged with the Addams' morbidity we so love. **

**So, that said. Please Review and Enjoy!**

**~TLD**

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**Part Nineteen: Stolen Moments**

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The world was crumbling around him. He could feel it.

All of his restraint, all of his anger and fear, his self-loathing and his thirst for vengeance – all of it crumbled around him and he felt a new sensation washing over him.

Contentment.

He knew his burdens weren't gone permanently, and he marveled at the power of this moment to push them aside completely.

He breathed in deeply, savoring his stolen moment of bliss.

And then dove in.

Their kisses burned with a fiery intensity that sent chills down Wednesday's spine. She shuddered delicately as Joel's hands moved along her skin, displacing clothing and awakening hungers she'd never felt before.

Her eyes lingered on his beautiful face and his sculpted chest, refusing to close despite the overwhelming ecstasy that was building in her. His faint white scars stood out in the pale light and his staggered breathing rippled the muscles in his chest. Whenever she caught his eyes, the force of his gaze ripped the breath out of her. His eyes burned with untamed passion and an awe-struck amazement that put her to mind of a blind man seeing the world for the first time.

And indeed, that is how he felt. For he'd never seen a more beautiful face than Wednesday's as she watched him, as she practically purred under his touch, as she tried to hide the depth of her pleasure from him.

He smiled, that cocky, lazy smile, curling his lips.

He curled his body closer to Wednesday's, kissed her forehead, and then followed her gaze as she watched his hand caress slowly down her body.

She almost cried out in shock and pleasure as his hand claimed her. Her eyes rolled back into her head completely against her will. She scolded herself internally for losing control, but the quenching sensation that coursed through her, the feeling that something that had been missing, something that she'd be hungering for - had finally returned, caught her by surprise.

She opened her eyes to find Joel staring intently at her, his own enjoyment of her pleasure staggering his breathing. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and suddenly realized; he wasn't close enough.

They tumbled out of clothing, lavishing in the feel of each other's skin, trading kisses and caresses, until Joel found himself hovering above Wednesday's body, Wednesday beckoning – closer.

He paused for a moment, the war within him flaring up slightly. He desired her – but the thought of causing her pain stung his heart.

She raised an eyebrow at his still form.

Suddenly, Joel spoke. "Do you trust me?"

Wednesday sat up. Confusion contorted her face. Her answer came out begrudgingly, "Obviously."

Joel smiled slightly, and pulled Wednesday back into bed.

He brought his face inches from Wednesday's and whispered. "Wednesday, my love, my heart, look at me, look into my eyes."

Her eyes locked into the fiery hazel of Joel's gaze, and suddenly, she felt herself falling into them. The green and gold and brown flames of his eyes carried her away and a lightness filled her chest, her limbs.

And so, when he plunged into her, she felt only the pressure and the heat and the skin-tingling pleasure. They gasped as one, and for a split second, the sensation became too much for Joel and he shut his eyes, losing his hold over the thrall. A quick stab of pain broke through Wednesday's consciousness before Joel could regain the thrall and give her only the pleasure.

He looked into her eyes again, a worried expression contorting his face. To his amazement, Wednesday smiled – a little pain to sweeten the pleasure – he should have known.

He moved slowly, luxuriating in the feel of Wednesday's body, and the tingling shock waves that coursed through him with each movement. Wednesday's eyes remained unfocused, but small moans rumbled out of her, sounding like the purr of sleek, deadly cat. She trembled, and clutched Joel's body closer to hers, feeling her pleasure deepen and grow.

Joel felt Wednesday's body relaxing and sensed her growing need, and as their tempo accelerated, he released her from the thrall. Her eyes fluttered and her body trembled as the sensations returned in startling clarity, and a desperate cry tumbled out. She dug her nails into Joel's skin, the pleasure becoming almost painful, her body reaching for the top. He bowed his head in determination, fighting his own mounting pleasure. They soared with reckless abandon, battling with ferocious and sensual intensity, but it wasn't until he heard her cry out in ecstasy and felt her body melting around him that he let himself topple off the edge with her.

They lay, gasping, clutching each other as if clinging onto life itself.

After what felt like an eternity, Wednesday shivered with cold. Too tired and spent to move, she burrowed deeper into Joel's chest. He smiled to himself, but then shifted so he could wrap the bedcovers around them. As Wednesday drifted off to sleep, Joel listened to the soft whisper of her breath and the steady beating of her heart. He ran his fingers through her hair, watching her sleep – determined to stay awake and savor the moment. But after a while, his own fatigue claimed him, and he fell into oblivion, his face nuzzled into Wednesday's hair.

* * *

"Shit," she spat, suddenly struggling to disentangle herself from Joel's arms.

"Huh?" he groaned, still very much asleep.

"Shit, shit, shit," she chanted, "let me up, Joel," Wednesday replied, irritation heavy in her voice.

"Huh?" Joel repeated, but her anxious tone had wakened him, "What's wrong?"

"What time is it?" Wednesday asked, groping for her clothing and hastily getting dressed.

Joel scanned her face, she wasn't frightened, just annoyed. He relaxed fractionally. "Um," he searched the bedside clock. "10 am," he said. He face betrayed his confusion. "What's wrong?" he repeated.

"How I am supposed to break in to my mother's poison cabinet to get her arsenic blend at 10 am with the whole family up and about?" she replied, as if it were obvious.

Joel's forehead crumbled, "Um, Try again. I'm lost. Don't you have your own poison cabinet?" he smiled slightly.

She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Of course I do, but I don't have the arsenic _blend_ my mother uses for the prevention of…" she stopped. Sighed again, and finished begrudgingly – "pregnancy."

"Oh!" Joel exclaimed, relieved to finally understand. But his relief was short lived.

He sat up and rubbed the heel of his hand on his forehead. Finally he spoke, "Well, unless you'd enjoy the challenge of trying to break into her cabinet while your family is awake, I'd say the endeavor is – well – on the whole, unnecessary."

Wednesday stopped, and now her face betrayed confusion. "Unnecessary?"

Joel sighed. "Yea. You're completely safe from any unwanted spawn taking root inside of you," he answered, self-disgust heavy in his voice. He moved to get up, but Wednesday suddenly sat on the bed next to him, grabbing his wrist.

"You're… infertile?" she attempted to be delicate, but as it was not her forte, Joel winced subtly and his face grew red.

"Not just me," he said, slightly defensively, "we all are. I'm not sure why, but that's why we reproduce through… through the exchange of blood," his scowl deepened as he spoke.

"And that angers you?" Wednesday asked, genuinely confused.

Joel looked up, the scowl fading only slightly. "Well, on one hand, I'm glad – Lord knows I don't want any more of _my_ _kind_ running around. But, on the other, it's just another part of my life that Lilith stole from me, that I'll never get back…" his voice trailed off and he couldn't hold Wednesday's gaze any longer. He turned his back on her, moving to get out of bed.

A small hand on his arm stopped him.

"Stay," she said simply.

He rolled back into bed and Wednesday curled up in his arms, her right hand absently tracing the white scars across Joel's chest and the long thick scar down his left arm.

"Do they pain you?" Wednesday asked.

Joel noticed that her pupils dilated at the mention of his pain. He smiled.

"No, not anymore."

She reached up and caressed the now completely healed gash in his neck. "Even this one?"

In truth, it did sting slightly, but the soft warmth of Wednesday's hand erased any pain he felt. He covered her hand with his own, brought it to his lips, and kissed her palm.

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he kissed the inside of her wrist, and slowly pulled her closer to him, kissing along the inside of her arm, deepening the kisses until she shuddered. When he reached her shoulder, he kissed along her neck, letting the tiniest bit of teeth graze her skin.

She was breathing heavily now. Despite her ironclad self-control, she couldn't stop the gasping that was escaping from her lips. When Joel kissed her neck she practically collapsed into a shaking, panting heap. Her skin burst into flames and shivers so strong she felt as if every nerve-ending in her body had come alive racked her body. When his kisses finally reached her mouth, she felt a feral intensity overcome her, and she gripped his face and tangled her fingers in his hair with such ferocity that a low growl slipped through Joel's teeth.

She glanced at him, suddenly worried she'd awakened the monster, but Joel smiled, the fire in his eyes purely passion, and the two tangled and toppled away, savoring yet another stolen moment of bliss – not knowing if it might be their last.


	20. Dance with the Devil

**OK, so now we begin what I'm calling ACT II of Hearts are Open Graves. (I'd prefer to call it Part II, but, as I've been using that terminology to denote chapters, that option is off the table...)**

**We open with some background on Lilith. **

**NOTE: This story is FICTION and any back-story that I've created, however so much as it might relate to outside stories, myths, religious parables, or the like, does not constitute an endorsement of a statement of belief. It's Fiction. **

**That being said, ENJOY! and Please Review~**

**~TLD**

* * *

**ACT II  
**

* * *

**Part Twenty: Dance with the Devil**

**

* * *

  
**

She cradled the infant in her arms. It had fussed a bit at first, when she had stolen it from its pretty blue basinet. But it lay quietly now, dozing to the soft crooning of Lilith's voice.

She'd locked the doors to her room, not that it mattered – her minions were out enjoying their own recreation and they knew better than to disturb her during hers. She didn't take infants often, at least in recent years, but with the full moon so close and this her 666th attempt of the rising ritual, she felt that strong compulsion in her gut that led her take infants.

"Pretty baby," she murmured.

She rocked steadily, smelling and feeling the soft baby in her arms, but her mind wandered, back, back, back…

* * *

"Adam?" God said, "This is Lilith. She will be your companion. Like you, I have made her from the clay of the earth. She is your equal in every way, your perfect companion. I love her as I love you. Take her unto yourself and love her as I do."

Adam smiled and took her in his arms. "Lilith," his voice formed her name. "You are beautiful."

She had smiled back, a feeling a warmth filling her – so strong. She'd never felt anything like it before. "Adam," she had replied, tasting his name on her tongue.

They wandered together across creation. Adam introduced her to all of the animals and birds and fish, and together they named some of the plants Adam had yet to name. The lions roamed with them and the sheep lay at her feet.

They were to be married, God had said. Like the animals and birds, they were mates. He sheltered Lilith under a Weeping Willow some distance from Adam's bed amongst the animals for the night before their wedding. The birds sat with Lilith, singing to her from the Willow's branches, twining flowers in her hair. She was too overjoyed to sleep, so she watched the stars and sang with the birds.

Later, as sleep began to creep in, Lilith felt a strange presence. She opened her eyes to find a man leaning over her.

"Adam?" she asked, straining to see in the darkness.

"No child, not Adam," a soft, musical voice replied.

She couldn't see well in the darkness, but the man seemed to glow from within, a strange white luminescence that somehow made the darkness around him even darker.

The birds twittered uncomfortably on their boughs as the luminescent figure strode closer to Lilith. Up close, she could see his features. He had the most beautiful face she'd ever seen. She thought of Adam, strong, beautiful Adam, but this man was different, his beauty was without equal. For the first day in her life, the first time in human history, she felt envy.

"Who are you?" she asked.

He smiled the most compelling smile ever smiled, and answered, "I am your future."

"You, Lilith, the most beautiful of all creation, do you really want to waste away with Adam? Why bear his children when his beauty is nothing to yours?" he continued.

"But, Adam is my mate," Lilith replied, confused.

He advanced on her, pinning her to the Willow, "No. I am," he replied.

She cried out in fear when he grabbed her wrists and, with startling force, threw her to the ground. The birds scattered, flying away in fear, only some of them keeping their wits about them enough to seek Adam for help.

She scrambled across the forest floor, trying desperately to evade her pursuer, but he was faster, and soon he was upon her, grasping her with demonic intensity, beating her into submission, and forcing his will upon her. She cried and screamed, and tried to fight back, scratching her nails into his flesh, biting and kicking, but in the end, she was broken. And when he was finished, he left her, a bleeding, crying heap on the forest floor, without a backward glance.

Hours passed, but she was too broken to move, her will and her body lacked the strength to move even an inch. Finally, Adam's voice rent the air. Her heart leapt. Adam would find her and save her. Adam would fix her.

But Adam's distressed call turned in to a cry of disgust when he saw her broken, bloody, and mud-covered body on the forest floor.

"Whore!" he cried. "How could you?" and he too, left without a backward glance.

Lilith's tears ran like a river through the forest, but still she did not move. Some of the animals came to lie by her, but still she did not move. It wasn't until she felt a tiny nudge from within her growing belly that she finally sat up.

Perplexed, she laid a gentle hand on the small lump. And the lump pushed back.

She rose, a sudden determination gripping her, and decided to go up the mountain, find God, and ask him about the lump.

But on the way, _he_ appeared, blocking her path. She could see him clearly now in the light of day. The bright luminescence around him formed the shape of long, dripping wings.

She turned to run, expecting him to attack her again.

"Stop," he commanded, "I won't hurt you."

His voice was compelling and she felt her body stopping despite her conscious desire to run.

"In fact," he continued, "I am here to protect you."

"Protect me?" she asked, stunned.

"You don't believe that God will let you live with what you are carrying, do you?" the shining angel mocked.

"What I'm carrying?" she asked, confused.

He laid a soft hand on the tiny lump. She winced, curling instinctively around her tiny lump, expecting him to hit her again.

"Even now, he is sending an army upon us to kill the baby in your womb," he whispered.

"My baby? No!" she cried. The Devil's eyes sparkled in triumph.

As they stood, the small lump grew imperceptibly. Lilith felt the growing strain on her body, but the growing love for her baby grew exponentially faster.

"We need to hide," said the Devil, "we haven't much time left."

Whether he meant before God's army attacked or before the birth of the baby, Lilith didn't know.

* * *

On the mountain, Adam relayed Lilith's betrayal to God.

"Adam," God scolded, "How could you? Where is your compassion?"

But Adam did not understand.

God sighed, "My poor, poor Lilith."

The birds swirled around God, speaking of a tall, beautiful, glowing stranger and of the terrible brutality he inflicted upon Lilith. God saw as they had seen and was shocked to see the face of his Lieutenant – Lucifer, his beloved.

"Indeed there has been a betrayal, Adam, but not by Lilith," God said, his voice growing fierce. And with that, he disappeared, marshaling his angels, his faithful angels, in an assault against the traitor.

* * *

Hidden from God, on the ridge of a deep chasm, Lilith and Lucifer awaited the arrival of the baby. Growing rapidly, it pressed against Lilith's ribs. Kicking, it bruised her organs, stealing her breath. She writhed in pain as the first of God's angels found them.

"No!" Lucifer cursed, "I will not be thwarted now."

And so, he drew a long, jagged knife, and cut the struggling baby free of its tormented mother.

Grinning in triumph, he lifted the bloodstained baby into the air, ignoring the feeble moans as Lilith struggled to hang onto life long enough to glimpse her beautiful baby. In her failing eyesight, suddenly she saw him. Even covered in her blood, he was radiant, more brilliant than the North Star, a glimmering beacon.

But then her vision failed and she felt herself falling away, "Goodbye, my brilliant one," she whispered.

Suddenly he was upon her again, his face glowing on the edges of her vision, "You will not die," he crooned, "Wouldn't you like that? To live and thrive and never die? I can give you that gift."

His words swirled through her mind, pulling her back to life, back to her beloved baby, "Life?" she whispered.

"Life Eternal," he crooned. "What would you give for such a gift?" he whispered.

"Give?" she replied, her brain sluggish from blood loss. "Anything," she murmured.

The Devil smiled, "Done." The Devil's beautiful face contorted. He bit down upon his own lip with razor sharp teeth, and pressed his bleeding lips against Lilith's pale, dying mouth in a sick, passionate kiss.

As Lilith's body fell into death, he pulled her back, trapping a piece of her soul within himself and letting the transformative power of his demonic blood heal her broken body.

After he was finished, God and his angels descended upon him.

"What have you done, traitor?" God commanded.

But Lucifer only smiled. "I do not answer to you, oh Most High. I am God now. Giver and Taker of Souls."

"Do not fool yourself, oh Broken One," God replied, "You have nothing to give and no power to give it. Instead, you choose to destroy, and so, you are The Destroyer, The Breaker. But, you are not God."

"As The Creator of All Things," God continued, "I hereby banish you from this earth. I revoke your wings - that I once gave to you. No longer will you be allowed to set foot upon the earth or take flight upon the sky. You and all things like you will dwell below, so far below that the fires at the center of earth shall be your sky and none, no matter how far they dig, shall ever reach you."

And with that, God's angels cut off Lucifer's wings, and threw him into the pit, his struggling baby still clutched in his arms.

* * *

God and Adam stood over the body of Lilith. Though she was somewhere between life and death, the Devil's poison still transforming her body, she heard them.

"My poor, poor Lilith," God whispered. "She is lost to me now."

Adam stood impassively, not understanding.

"We failed her, you and I both," God said.

Adam looked up, confused, but God continued.

"I made her, a perfect equal to you, of the same substance, and I thought that similarity would be enough to bind you together – not simply as companions, but as one flesh, one heart, one love, a relationship of utmost compassion."

"And yet," he continued, "you were able to fling her aside as if she meant nothing to you. I am most displeased with you, Adam. But I will not make the same mistake again."

God sighed, before continuing. "I left her unprotected, believing evil could never touch this world, but I was wrong. I will not make that mistake again."

And so, God put Adam into a deep sleep, and, removing one of his ribs, fashioned Eve from his very flesh, so that Adam might learn compassion. As one flesh, they would feel each other's pain. They would love with one heart, become one flesh, and live in utmost compassion – feeling most complete when they dedicated their lives to loving, protecting, and caring for one another.

Seeing his new creation, and knowing how fragile his beloved children were, God created a spectacular, lush garden, secluded and protected against the Devil, in which to house them and keep them safe.

* * *

Days later, Lilith awoke, cold and alone, her new body and senses unnerving her in their alienness. She reached down, anxious to feel the lump that meant her baby was safe and with her, but the lump was gone. Her beautiful baby taken from her.

She felt empty, hollow. For days and weeks and years, she wallowed in her grief, and the emptiness, the hollowness inside of her grew like a cancer, like a disease, like a hunger that could never be sated.

Until one day, many, many years after Adam had died, a descendant of Adam and Eve stumbled upon her little cave overlooking the chasm.

He was little more than a boy, and when Lilith saw him, her grief for her lost son, erupted into flame and the hunger that had been festering inside of her for decades burst forth. She threw herself on the boy, ripping at him with her clawed fingers, screaming and shrieking like the animal she had become. When the boy's hot blood splashed on her mouth and face, she felt a rush of endorphins, a strange sensation of fullness, like the empty hole in her was being filled. Without thinking, she plunged her teeth into the boy's throat, sucking up every last drop of that life-giving fluid, and feeling, for a moment, alive again.

When the feeling passed, and the hole ripped itself in her chest again, Lilith knew she had a choice – wallow in grief and depression for the rest of her endless life… or… feel alive, however briefly, in whatever way that she could.

And so, she waged war on the sons and daughters of Adam.

* * *

Her reminiscence faded as the baby in her arms began to fuss.

"Shh," Lilith crooned, rocking the baby again.

"You're a pretty baby," she sighed, "not as pretty as my Northern Star, my beautiful, brilliant baby. But don't worry; I'll get him back. This time, I'll get him back. Lucifer can't deny me this time, not on my 666th attempt, no, not this time," she murmured to the baby.

The baby, perhaps sensing danger, began to cry, a gut-wrenching cry that would bring his mother running to his aid. But this was not his mother, and with a throat-crushing bite, Lilith silenced the infant. Permanently.


	21. The Implements of War

**Time to get some answers. For the record, Yes, I did use a phrase from the first movie in this chapter. It appears in italics. I don't own it. (Duh). Just in case it's not clear otherwise, I don't own anything related to the Addams Family or any other character I might include in my stories.**

**That said, Enjoy!**

**Please Review~**

**~TLD  
**

* * *

**Part Twenty-One: The Implements of War**

* * *

She opened her eyes to pitch darkness. Fluttering her eyelashes in an attempt to blink away the blindness, a sudden terror overcame her. She struggled to sit up, but she found her wrists and ankles were bound, holding her on her back. A scream crawled its way up her throat, but before it escaped, the darkness thinned – as if her eyes were suddenly gaining focus. The change distracted her from her fear, momentarily. She watched as the pitch darkness blurred into a night sky, the starry pinpricks stabbing through a heavy cloud cover. A large shape loomed just out of her field of vision. She turned her head to get a better look, but was suddenly distracted by the low sounds of speaking. She strained to hear, but she couldn't make out the words or the voice. Suddenly a deep rumbling seemed to emanate from the ground beneath her body. The voices grew louder in her ears, chanting some long forgotten language. Fear bubbled inside of her as she desperately scanned the darkness for the source of the voices and the rumbling. Suddenly, a blaze of light came from above her body.

And with lightening quickness, the blade plunged into her.

She awoke with a start. Panting heavily, fat tears dripping from her eyes, and her bed covers strewn on the floor, she awoke after yet another disturbing, vivid dream. She'd had this same dream for the past three nights, each time waking just before the blade sliced into her body. She didn't know what it meant. Deep inside, a little voice whispered that she was seeing her death, but she refused to entertain such a ridiculous notion.

She shivered slightly, shaking away a chill that had settled in her bones.

* * *

Gomez found Pugsley and Pubert in the playroom, honing a series of metal and wooden weapons that lay scattered across the playroom floor.

"Dismal morning, boys," Gomez greeted them cheerfully, "how goes it in the forges?" He laughed heartily.

Pubert snapped to attention. "Excellent, Father," Pubert beamed. "Since Joel briefed us on the kind of weaponry best suited for dispatching our enemies, I have been honing our assorted broadswords and main gauche to expert sharpness, perfect for easy and fluid decapitations." Pubert beamed at his handiwork, and passed a sword to his father.

Testing its weight and balance, Gomez smiled hugely. "Excellent," he half-whispered to himself, anticipating how it would sing in his hands in the coming battle.

Noticing his father's absorption, Pubert cleared his throat discretely before continuing with his report. "Additionally, we've fashioned a wide array of wooden weapons, from stakes, to arrows, clubs, spears, etc..." Pubert spread his arms wide to draw his father's eyes to the corners of the packed playroom. Gomez's eyes lit up and he gazed about the room with the sheer joy and unabashed lust of a kid in a candy shop.

Pubert continued, "Wood through the heart, as Joel has informed us, is just as effective as legend states. Finally," Pubert finished with a flourish, "Pugsley, however, has been working on some _new_ implements of destruction." With a grin, Pubert turned his attention to Pugsley, who was hovering over a large table in the corner of the room, with his chemical laboratory bubbling, sparking, and intermittently emitting small bursts of smoke, flames, and noxious gases.

The grin on Gomez's face was only a shadow of the gaping, joyful smile that lit up Pugsley's grime-stained face.

"They won't know what hit 'em," Pugsley laughed. And the three Addamses spent the afternoon immersed in their implements of war.

* * *

It was moments after dusk when Joel appeared on the Addams' doorstep. He'd been a near constant visitor at the Addams' residence over the past couple of days. He knew the intensity of Lilith's attacks on the Addams' family and himself would only increase as the days ticked away and Lilith's ritual loomed ever nearer.

He was taking upon himself to prepare the family for the battles to come.

Of course, not even he had all the answers. He'd been made aware of that fact the day before when Pubert had asked an interesting question.

"But what's so important about the coming full moon," he'd asked in his dignified voice.

"Well," Joel answered, "She has this ritual…the rising ritual, she called it." Joel's brow crumpled, realizing he didn't know much more about it. "I've never thought much about it, but she's been talking about it since she made us all…" his voice trailed off and he felt his answer was, all in all, thoroughly unsatisfying.

Apparently, the Addams' had agreed. Because tonight, they had said, they were going to get some _real_ answers. Joel could only guess at what that meant.

He knocked on the door, smiling when Lurch answered and invited him in. He couldn't believe the difference he felt upon entering the house this night from what he'd felt that first time. Now it truly felt like home.

His smile widened as Gomez Addams came barreling into the living room to greet Joel as he entered.

"Joel, my boy, excellent to see you!" Gomez exclaimed. Joel noticed he was covered in a fine layer of soot.

He tried to hide his grin. "You too, Mr. Addams," he replied politely.

Gomez noticed his distraction. "Ah!" he said, looking down at his grime cover suit. "Excuse the mess, Old Chap," he said as he started brushing the ash from his coat. The room filled with a huge cloud of smoke, causing Joel and Gomez to start coughing.

Joel burst out into laughter. "What were you doing?"

Gomez laughed, "Oh, you'll love it. The boys have been concocting some truly excellent weapons for our dear undead friends," he smiled, the fog parting enough for Joel to see the evil glint in his eyes, "Present company excluded," he added playfully.

Joel laughed again. "Excellent," he replied, stealing Gomez's word.

As the dust cleared, Joel looked around the living room properly, noticing that Mrs. Addams and Wednesday were notably absent.

He didn't want to be rude, but he couldn't stop the question that rose to his lips, "Where are Wednesday and Mrs. Addams?" he blurted. And then blushed, wishing he'd taken the time to phrase the question a bit more tactfully.

Gomez was unperturbed by the question. But, to Joel's surprise, his expression betrayed a small amount of concern.

"Well, actually, my boy," Gomez hedged, "They've been in their respective rooms for most of the day." His brow crumpled. "Mrs. Addams slept particularly restlessly last night, so she's been enjoying the gloomy darkness of our room to make up for it." He smiled wistfully, envying her melancholy.

"Wednesday," he continued, "I'm not sure about. I did knock earlier, but," and here his voice dropped to a murmur, "well, you know Wednesday." He smiled, "I figured she'd surface when she'd felt like it."

Gomez smiled a wicked grin, a new thought coming to him.

"Of course, you're welcome to give it a go." He laughed, obviously imagining what hideous torture Wednesday would inflict on Joel if he disturbed her peace.

Joel smiled back. "No, I think you're right to give her space." He chuckled somewhat uncomfortably, "Any man would be insane to attempt to dissuade Wednesday from doing whatever it is she wanted to do."

To this Gomez clapped Joel on the back, and exclaimed, "Good man!" before adding in a slightly more serious tone, "Well, in that case, while we anxiously await her inevitable appearance, perhaps you'd like to see what the boys have been working on?"

The look on his face was too joyful to deny, so, despite the fact that Joel desperately wanted to see Wednesday, he smiled back at Gomez and followed him to the playroom.

* * *

About an hour later, Wednesday's thin black form appeared in silhouette in the open door, crushing black against the thin grey smoke that filled the small playroom.

Joel saw her first, his keen eyes and superior senses hearing, smelling, and feeling her long before the others' eyes had adjusted to the thinning fog. So when she stepped through the mist, Wednesday found Joel's eyes were already locked on her face.

She noticed his eyes were practically glowing with love and desire. Immediately, she felt her bones melting and a warmth growing in her belly.

_Not fair,_ she thought, cringing internally at the power he had over her. Then, another thought struck, _Well, two can play that game._

She smiled a small, seductive smile and leaned her weight onto one hip.

Her small smile soon spread into a openly wicked grin as she noticed Joel's body tense in response to her attention.

She rolled her eyes playfully, breaking the spell, and Joel's expression melted into a sweet smile. He nodded slightly as if to say, _You win_.

_Men_, she thought, laughing to herself.

But her silent dialogue with Joel was cut short as her father and brothers emerged, coughing and sputtering, out of the thickest part of the smoke, pushing Joel and Wednesday into the hallway with them.

"Ah, Wednesday, how nice to see you," Gomez managed between coughing and laughing.

Wednesday raised an eyebrow and cracked a tiny smirk at her father and brothers' disheveled appearance before answering in a detached monotone, "Mother asked me to inform you that she and Grandmama are ready."

Gomez smiled hugely, and answered, "Excellent! The boys and I will be right up." Wednesday turned to leave and Gomez moved to follow her before he paused, looked down at his soot-covered appearance and the grime-covered faces of his sons and said, "Um, Wednesday, dear?"

Wednesday paused and looked back at her father.

"Tell your mother we'll be just a moment," he added, sheepishly. "You know how she loathes when sulfurous soot mixes with the cobwebs and dust in the parlor."

Wednesday nodded and left the boys to clean themselves off.

After she'd disappeared down the hall, Joel asked, "What's in the parlor?"

Gomez's eyes lit up, "Oh my good man, didn't I tell you? That's where we hold the séances."

Joel's face betrayed his confusion, but he couldn't help but smile at the look of anticipation on Gomez's face. And the boys hurriedly dusted themselves off and rushed to the parlor.

* * *

Waiting for Joel in the parlor was a sight unlike any he'd ever seen.

The tiny room, adorned in dust-covered fabrics, lit in flickering glow by dozens of black candles, housed a single, ovular table, overhung by a low, cobweb-adorned crystal chandelier. Eight high-backed chairs surrounded the table and a filmy crystal ball on a three-footed stand perched in the center.

As Joel entered the room, his eyes locked on Wednesday, who stood, chin high, draped in black fabric, the candles throwing ghastly flickering shadows across her stoic face.

As he looked, someone spoke. Tearing his eyes away from Wednesday, he listened intently.

"Welcome, dear family," Morticia's seductive voice rang out over the silence. "Please, take your seats as we prepare to reach beyond the grave and call upon our dearly departed sister of the craft, Great Aunt Calpurnia." Morticia gestured and led each person to his respective seat.

Wednesday remained at one end of the table with Joel seated to her right. On the other end of the table sat Mama, the crystal ball now clutched in her grasp. To Mama's left and right sat Morticia and Gomez. Pubert sat to the left of Wednesday, and Puglesy sat between him and their father.

After they were seated, Morticia reached out and took Joel's hand, saying, "And now, we clasp hands, anchoring ourselves to this mortal plane and combining our auric power as we reach into Hell to pull Aunt Calpurnia out."

Joel shuddered slightly. Whether it was due to the startling cold of Morticia's hand or to the prospect of rooting around in Hell, he wasn't sure.

Morticia nodded subtly to Mama, and she began the ritual. Bowing her head and closing her eyes, Mama began to chant. Joel couldn't understand the words, but the cadence of her speech chilled him to the bone. He looked up through half-closed eyes, curious as to what might happen next. Suddenly, Mama's voice stopped, and the room was filled with silence.

Joel opened his eyes outright. Pugsley was staring at him as if to say, _Here comes the interesting part_. Joel swallowed. Pugsley's eyes flicked to Wednesday with a look that was both excited and greedy. Joel's brow crumpled. _I wonder…_ he thought, before Mama's voice rent the air again.

"Into death, we fall to thee. Out of death, we set you free!" Mama chanted.

After Mama's screeching voice fell silent, another, softer voice spoke.

"_Let us ransom you from the power of the grave. Oh death! Let us be your plague_," Wednesday's voice chilled the air and Joel held his breath, sure that no one, dead or alive, could have the power to refuse such a voice.

The silence stretched on, until finally, Mama screamed again.

"Calpurnia! Scourge of Salem! Daughter of Hecate! Come to us! Answer our call!" Mama's cries rang out.

Joel held his breath.

Suddenly the candles flickered and a strange breeze sent shivers down his spine. He felt a pressing against his temples and a heaviness on his chest. He fought for air, tucking his chin into his chest and pressing his fists against the table in an attempt to remain in his seat and not be sucked into the vacuum of Hell. After a long moment, the pressure eased and Joel heaved a sigh of relief.

He opened his eyes, luxuriating in the feel of breathing freely, and then gasped.

Wednesday's hand clamped down on his with inhuman strength. He looked over at her to find her shaking as with seizures. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her head lolled over onto her shoulder. Joel turned panicked eyes on Gomez and her brothers, but they all watched her with excited, but calm, interest. Joel noticed that Pugsley, especially, looked positively elated.

Joel tried to release Wednesday's hand so that he could get up and help her, but he found he couldn't. He couldn't release her hand, nor could he get up from his seat. It was as if he was welded into place.

Just as he was about to erupt into a full-scale panic attack, her convulsions stopped.

Joel looked intently at Wednesday's face, waiting for her eyes to focus. When she finally lifted her head off of her shoulder, her eyes were completely white.

Joel opened his mouth to speak, but Morticia beat him to it.

"Welcome, Calpurnia."

"Why have you summoned me?" Wednesday's voice hissed out of her, oddly distorted. It sent shivers down Joel's spine.

Morticia spoke again, "We need your help. We need some information about the vampire called Lilith."

At the sound of Lilith's name, the candles flickered wildly. The ghost within Wednesday grew agitated.

"You would be wise not to speak her name. Not now when the barrier is so thin," Calpurnia's voice hissed out of Wednesday.

"What do you mean?" Morticia asked.

Wednesday took a deep breath and then said, "The Daughter of Clay and Blood is no stranger to the Dark Realm. The Lord below pines for her, strengthens her, empowers her, but never shall she return to him until he returns to her that which was stolen from her…" Wednesday's voice hissed endlessly, it seemed.

"But what, what was stolen?" Joel asked before he could stop himself.

Wednesday turned white eyes on Joel's face, her movements stilted and unnatural. She cocked her head in a very Wednesday-ish way that made Joel slightly nauseous, before answering.

"I dare not speak his name," Wednesday whispered. "The Prince of Fire and Blood," Wednesday recited his title with admiration, and then added in a whisper, "her son."

The Addams' family sat in stunned silence.

"The rising ritual?" Joel murmured, afraid to ask.

Wednesday nodded, confirming his fears. "The Dark Lord rejoices for his son will soon walk the earth." Wednesday smiled a sick smile, "And in his wake, the waters of the earth will run red with blood, and all will fall before him. He will feast on the flesh of the sons and daughters of Adam and reclaim his place as Lord over all the earth." Wednesday cackled, a sound like glass shattering.

"But," Joel interrupted, "she must have done this rising ritual a million times before. Why now? How is it that it finally works now?" He tried to keep his panic out of his voice, unsuccessfully.

Wednesday raised an eyebrow. "Her Highness, Queen of Blood has performed the rising ritual 665 times. She did not know that she was missing a key element." Wednesday smiled a sinister, knowing smile, "She knows it now."

"What?" Joel shouted, "What is it?"

But Wednesday simply cackled a stream of maniacal laughter so loud that Joel felt as though his skin was being flayed off. After what felt like an eternity, Calpurnia's laughter faded into a long hiss as her spirit fell back into Hell. As Calpurnia dissipated, Wednesday's head slumped down against her chest and her body fell forward onto the table.

With a sudden lurch, Joel found he could move again and he quickly began running his hands through Wednesday's hair and over her face, lifting her off the table.

"Wednesday?" he whispered. "Wednesday? Are you in there?" He held her head in his hands, so when she fluttered her eyes open, his own were only inches away. Her black eyes were weary, but they were clear, and Joel couldn't help the smile that grew on his face when he saw her.

Wednesday smiled back for a moment before rolling her eyes and sitting up. She brought a hand to her head, massaging her forehead, where a killer headache had started to form.

She looked up into the faces of her family members and groaned, "I hate séances."

Joel wholeheartedly agreed.


	22. Hidden Demons

**Kind of a short one, but LONGER ones in the works. Stay Tuned. The Plot Thickens.**

**Please Review!**

**Enjoy~**

**~TLD  
**

**

* * *

Part Twenty-Two: Hidden Demons**

**

* * *

**

"You don't have to go," Morticia whispered to Joel.

He paused with his hand on the door handle to his room at the Addams' mansion. He'd been spending nights with the Addams' on and off over the past few days. Not trusting the security of his room at the motel, Joel had brought some of his few belongings and left them in the guest room at the Addams' house.

So when he had left the sitting room and hurried down the hall to his own room, the other Addams' had simply assumed that he'd desired a moment of solitude in his room.

Only Morticia had known better.

Joel spared a moment to take a deep breath, trying to calm the burning agitation barely contained within him, before turning the handle and shutting the door in Morticia's serene, if not slightly concerned, face.

Once alone in the silent dark of his room, Joel sank heavily to the floor, his back resting against the door. He leaned his head back, banging it hard against the door and his tightly balled fists slammed on the hard wood floor. He breathed heavily, crushing his eyes closed, his forehead crumpled and his jaw clenched with the effort of calming his body and restraining his urges, so much stronger than they'd been in years.

He took another deep breath, and behind his closed eyes, he relived the scene.

* * *

They'd moved to the living room after the dire revelations of the séance. Morticia had poured henbane tea for everyone. Joel held the steaming cup in his hands and fell heavily into a chair next to Morticia, using the warmth to try and soothe his nerves. He felt shaky, a live wire, equally chilled and burning with anxiety caused by the spirit's words.

He looked up from his tea as Wednesday, looking dazed and exhausted, clumsily dropped into her own chair. Her body looked weak, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion, her eyes clouded with the pain of her pulsing headache. Joel felt his body tighten with stress at the sight of her. Anger flared up in him at the thought of the spirit's haughty cackle and the way it had pulled and clawed at Wednesday as it was sucked back into Hell.

He took a deep cleansing breath.

Gomez was pacing and smoking a cigar, his stress evident in his quick puffs and his long, quick strides. Pubert was following in his father's wake, occasionally bumping into him when he paused to turn in his circuit of pacing. Pugsley stood slightly off to the side of the group, throwing knives into a makeshift target above the mantle. Mama was tottering in the kitchen, mumbling to herself about something unintelligible.

"Her son…" Gomez muttered, shaking his head slowly. He tried the word out again, "son…" It felt alien in his mouth.

"Lucifer's son," Morticia murmured, temporarily breaking Gomez from his trance. He stopped abruptly, causing Pubert to crash into his father's back and fall on the floor. Gomez didn't notice. His eyes were locked on Morticia's.

Joel looked between them. It wasn't fear they shared, or even fascination. It was some combination of confusion and concern as each of them contemplated the horror of losing the other.

Joel knew the Addams' weren't fans of Lucifer. They certainly didn't fear him. But, despite what many of their neighbors had claimed, the Addams' did not worship him. Sure, they glorified death, delighted in pain and suffering, and cultivated a morbid romanticism around the beauty of two corpses rotting away together for all eternity, but death, just like life, were intimately human affairs.

Lucifer hated all that was human, and so death and life had nothing to do with him. As far as the Addams' were concerned, Lucifer existed in absence. He broke, but not for the pleasure of breaking, and so, once his deed was accomplished; he was in constant search of something else to break. He lusted for power over all existence, but since he broke whatever he took, he soon reigned over nothing, his very being teetering on the edge of existence and non-existence. As humans lived and died, grew and changed, Lucifer remained untouched, forever trying to take hold over that which was constantly evolving and impossible to contain, as one trying to grip a stream of water between his hands. If God was incarnate in everything, then Lucifer was incarnate in nothingness, the absences between existences, the emptiness between the realms of being.

Still, even the Addams' didn't like the sound of Lucifer's son walking the earth.

"The death toll would be…" Morticia murmured, "astronomical." Awe colored her tone.

Pugsley threw another knife into the mantle with a dull thud.

"The Prince of Fire and Blood," Joel muttered into his tea. "Charming title," he added sardonically. Wednesday cocked an eyebrow, but Pugsley paused to throw an appreciative grin in Joel's direction.

"But why now?" Joel continued, "What's so special about _this_ attempt of the rising ritual?" His eyes looked around the room, hoping someone might have an answer.

Silence hung heavily in the room as everyone pondered Joel's question.

_Thwack_. Pugsley's knife embedded itself in the mantle, jolting everyone.

Joel threw Pugsley a death stare. Pugsley shrugged his shoulders as if to say_, Geesh. Sorry_.

Just then, several things happened at once.

Pugsley pulled his arm back, gripping a long jagged knife between his fingers, preparing to launch it at his target. Mama screamed a blood-curdling shriek and came running into the living room, making everyone jump out of their skin and Wednesday jump to her feet. As Pugsley released the knife, his head and body involuntarily turned toward the sound of Mama's scream, throwing him off balance, and launching his knife directly at Wednesday's head, where it sliced a deep cut in her shoulder before embedding itself in the doorframe where, only moments ago, Mama had been standing.

"Ouch!" Wednesday screamed, "Dammit Pugsley!" She clapped at hand to her shoulder where blood was flowing freely down her arm.

With a sudden movement, Joel had jumped out of his chair, his eyes glowing deep crimson, his face contorted in rage, and his body tensing for a fight.

Just as he was about to launch himself across the room, Morticia's cold hand appeared on his shoulder.

She never could have held him back, but the startling coldness of her hand burned him and stung, for a second, through the monster rising up in him. He'd had just enough self control to mutter, "Excuse me," before he ripped his eyes from the bloody scene and rushed down the hall to his room. In the periphery of his senses, he heard Pugsley call after him, "Sorry man, it was an accident."

* * *

Alone in his room, he hoped, selfishly, that the family had written off his combative behavior as protectiveness for Wednesday, as anger on her behalf. As he sat on the floor, pounding his fists into his forehead, he tried to make that the truth.

_I was just mad he hurt her. I was upset to see her injured. I was worried for her._ Joel repeated the mantra as he pounded his fist against his forehead.

But, as a single tear burned down his cheek, a ray of truth filtered in.

He remembered the scene again.

_The sight of Wednesday's red, gushing blood. The smell of her adrenaline and the pulsing of her anger. The warmth of her blood and her body reacting to the cut. _

He felt his eyes reddening and felt a sick hunger in his stomach.

_NO!!_ he thought. _I wouldn't have hurt her, _he thought desperately. He remembered Morticia's hand on his shoulder, restraining him.

_I wouldn't have hurt her_, he thought again, willing it to be true.

Tears filled his eyes, his rage succumbing to self-disgust.

* * *

"This is stupid," Wednesday said, her voice acerbic.

Wednesday and Joel stood in the Addams' foyer. Joel had his bag thrown over his shoulder in a casual stance that kept him, Wednesday noted, further away from her than usual.

"I need some things from my motel room," Joel said casually, "Especially now since we've learned the scope of things. Son of the Devil's no joke. We're gonna need some heavy artillery." He shrugged in what he hoped was a casual sort of way.

Wednesday wasn't buying it.

She stepped closer to Joel and dropped her voice. "It's not a big deal. The cut's not even deep. Pugsley's a tool, but I've definitely had worse." She rolled her eyes.

Joel swallowed hard. _She thinks I'm mad at Pugsley._ Shame filled him. She didn't suspect him of lusting after her blood. _This is exactly why I have to go_, he thought.

He didn't know what to say, so he cocked a half-hearted smile, touched her cheek briefly before promising, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He turned and opened the door to leave.

And stared directly into the sparkling sapphire blue eyes of Lilith.


	23. The Descent and the Fall

**Dear Readers, please forgive my long absence. This VERY long chapter required extensive choreography and staging and, being particular (read: OCD) I've long been agonizing over every word. Don't worry, I haven't given up on this story - much more drama to come. **

**Please Review. I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

**Enjoy!**

**~TLD  
**

* * *

**Part Twenty-Three: The Descent and the Fall**

* * *

Back in the living room, Mama was shaking and babbling incoherently, her eyes wild with fright.

"Mama?" Morticia asked, resting her hand lightly on her shoulder. "What is it? What did you see?" she whispered into Mama's ear.

Mama's shaking subsided. Her eyes stared off into the distance, focused on some unseen entity. She forced her mind back to the images she saw swirling around in her cauldron, the images that had frightened her and sent her running out of the kitchen.

* * *

Meanwhile, Pubert raced down the creaky hallway, realizing with a start that he never said 'bye' to Joel. He barreled around the corned into the foyer, just in time to see Joel slam the front door in the face of –

"Wh-" Pubert choked, "Was that-?"

"_Little Pigs, Little Pigs…"_ Lilith's sweet compelling voice whispered through the door, followed by her enchanting giggle.

Pubert felt his blood cool. He finished his sentence in a whisper, "… _her_?"

Joel and Wednesday turned toward the sound of his voice, their eyes wild with disbelief. Joel smothered the inexplicable urge to open the door again, just to check that his eyes weren't fooling him, that Lilith had really been standing on the doorstep. But, he knew what he'd seen.

"Yea," Joel barked, his voice becoming business-like, as his mind was already whirling ahead, strategizing their next move.

He turned his eyes to Wednesdsay, who still hadn't spoken. Her eyes were slightly glazed over, the result of the shock and the draining effects of the séance earlier in the evening. He touched her shoulder, drawing her glazed eyes to his face.

"They're here," he said softly, squeezing her shoulder gently.

In response, Wednesday's eyes hardened and the lost look left her face. Focus returned and Wednesday nodded roughly.

"Let's go," she growled, and she led the race back into the living room.

The sound of their stomping feet filled the house, so it was no surprise that they found Morticia, Gomez, and Pugsley already gazing in their direction as they entered the living room. As the pounding of their footsteps died away, the sudden silence felt like an oppressive weight.

They all jumped as Morticia spoke, her voice a hollow echo of its normally cold and seductive tone, "She's come."

Joel watched as her long, catlike eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, her eyebrows arching menacingly. She folded her arms across her chest and turned to her husband whose face contorted into a wicked grimace, his eyes glinting in anticipation. With a flourish, he spun to face the group, and -

"Aaaaahhhhhh!"

Gomez was interrupted by Mama's blood-curdling scream. Her eyes were white and unfocused, seeing things no one else could see. She was shaking uncontrollably and muttering to herself in a language none had ever heard before.

Morticia threw herself on the sofa next to Mama, "Mama!" she shouted over the muttering, "What is it?"

Suddenly Mama froze. Her eyes, still unfocused, gazed seeing and unseeing across the room. She whispered something so low that even Joel couldn't catch it.

"Mama?" Morticia asked again.

Suddenly, reason returned to Mama's face and her blank stare was replaced with a look of utmost concern.

"Morticia! Gomez!" She shouted, "They're here! And what's more -"

Mama was interrupted as Lurch burst into the living room. Singed and disheveled, Lurch spoke urgently, causing his deep bass voice and Mama's shrill whine to overlap. But the family was able to understand them both, because they happened to shout out the exact same word -

"FIRE!"

The eerie combination of voices rang through the derelict halls like the screeching of some primordial creature, but the Addams' didn't have time to relish the sound.

Gomez flowed effortlessly into the role of general. In one fluid motion he pulled down two heavy long swords from the wall threw one to Joel. With a graceful arc, he twisted the other in his grasp as he addressed the rest of his family.

"Joel and I will draw the fiends away from the house," Gomez grinned. Joel nodded hard, already switching into battle mode.

Wednesday marveled at the ease with which Joel held the heavy sword. It hung loosely in his grasp, held aloft as if it weighed nothing. She watched his hazel eyes glint gold against the sparkling silver of the blade as he tested its balance and swung it through his stances.

"Pugsley and Wednesday," her father's voice jolted her out of reverie, "You will cover us from upstairs windows with crossbows, arrows, grenades, etc." Pugsley grinned hugely, greatly anticipating using his new inventions. Wednesday nodded sharply. Suddenly, she felt Joel's eyes on her and saw that he'd put aside his sword. His eyes were dark and dangerous, the eyes of a warrior, but as she stared back she sensed the pain in them as well. She lifted her chin defiantly.

_I'm not afraid_, she seemed to say.

Joel didn't smile, but he nodded slightly. He turned away, went to the wall and pulled down a set of leather gauntlets. He pulled the steel gloves off a suit of armor and put them beside Gomez. Gomez smiled at Joel, and finished the assignments.

"Lurch, you will assist Mrs. Addams in putting out the fire," Gomez ordered. Lurch nodded. Gomez strode over to him, laid a heavy hand on his shoulder and spoke somberly, "I'm counting on you, old chap." He looked deeply into Lurch's mud-colored eyes, "Protect her as I would."

Lurch knew he wasn't speaking about the house.

Gomez approached his wife, and pulled her into a tight embrace. Faces and lips inches apart, Gomez whispered, "Cara mia." His voice was barely more than a sigh. Morticia's brow furrowed, but she smiled sweetly and cupped Gomez' face in one hand, her long, pointed, red nails, caressing his temple.

"Mon cher," she whispered back.

"Wait for me on this side, my love, for there would be no rest for me in either world without you," Gomez crooned.

"Never fear, my dearest, for no force on earth or below can separate us, " Morticia crooned back in her seductive whisper.

As their lips crashed together in a passionate kiss, Joel averted his eyes, suddenly feeling that he was intruding on something much too private. As he turned, his eyes locked with Wednesday's. She'd been staring at him, Joel realized with a start.

He stared back, feeling a static energy building between them, pulling them together. With a shock, he realized he was resisting the pull. Releasing his breath in a huff, he took two long strides and pulled Wednesday into his arms. The sensation of relief was immediate. He tucked his head into her hair, closed his eyes, and breathed her in.

After a long moment that felt like seconds to Joel, Wednesday cleared her throat. Joel lifted his head to find that they were alone.

He turned his confused eyes on Wednesday, "Where-" he began

"Giving us a moment, I guess, " she muttered, slightly embarrassed. She rolled her eyes to alleviate her discomfort. Joel smiled.

Joel took a deep breath, his face falling into concern. He twitched uncomfortably before speaking in a rush.

"Be careful," he began, his voice low and earnest.

But Wednesday cut him off again, "I will. You too." She spoke in short huffs, as if she really didn't want to have this conversation. And, in truth, she really didn't.

While she certainly wasn't ready to profess her undying love like her parents had done, she wasn't particularly relishing the idea of Joel going out in a puff of ash on the battlefield - especially since she wouldn't be down there fighting with him. At least she could cover him from above. Either way, she really didn't want to think of the possibilities and myriad emotions - ew - she'd feel if he got himself killed.

She pulled herself out of his embrace, took a deep breath and put her game face on. "Just watch your ass," she snapped, and then cocked a snarky smile.

Joel's face broke into his signature cocky, lazy smile, "That's your job," he quipped.

And then he laughed outright as Wednesday's face curled up in mock anger.

But after a second, his face sobered, and with one final glance, he turned and left the living room to go find Gomez.

Wednesday watched him leave. Shook herself. And then ran upstairs to find Pugsley and his assorted weaponry.

* * *

As Joel followed the sound of Gomez' voice into the dungeons, he heard Pubert arguing with his father.

"But Father!" Pubert cried, "I can help! I'm an excellent sword fighter, you said so yourself!" Pubert whined.

"I know, my boy," Gomez replied slightly impatiently, "but you're too small yet."

"But Father!" Pubert interrupted.

Gomez's voice became stern, "Now that's my final word. You can't come outside with Joel and I. However, " Gomez paused, composing himself, "I do have something VERY important for you to do inside the house."

Pubert leaned into his father, drawn by his tone, "Yes, Father?"

Gomez kneeled before his son and laid a hand on his shoulder, "Pubert, son, I need to you to help Lurch protect your mother. Can you do that for me? It's very, very important. Can you handle that?" Gomez' voice was sincere.

Pubert snapped to attention, "Yes sir!" he shouted. And, miniature rapier in hand, he raced up the stairs to find Morticia and Lurch, who were putting out the fire on the roof.

As Gomez stared after the tiny form of his youngest son, his eyes glazing over momentarily, Joel stepped out of the shadows. Gomez's eyes jumped to his face, his wistful expression breaking into a hearty, if not slightly wicked expression.

"Ready, my boy?" Gomez calls, a challenging tone in his voice.

Joel nodded toward the dungeon that had been doubling as the armory, "Don't you want to put on some mail? Cover your throat at least?" Joel eyed Gomez's attire. Yes he had put on the steel gauntlets Joel had given him, but, aside from those, he was dressed in his normal pinstripe suit.

"Mail?" Gomez laughed, "Why on earth would I want that?"

Joel's voice became sarcastic, "Oh, I don't know," he mocked, "so that you might end this fight _living_?" He started to explain, "You don't understand, even without weapons –"

But Gomez cut him off, "Ah, Joel, but here's the thing about living. It's not really living unless you can _feel alive_!" he exclaimed. And then, with a "HAH!" he turned away from Joel and led the way into battle.

Sighing heavily and rolling his eyes, Joel took a final, cleansing breath, cinched his gauntlets tighter, gripped his sword, and followed Mr. Addams into the fray.

* * *

Pubert ran through the house searching for his mother and Lurch. "Mother?" he called. "Where are you?"

He searched rooms, climbed stairs, and sniffed for signs of the fire. After checking all the main floors, suddenly it hit him – The Roof! With renewed haste he scrambled up the attic stairs until he reached the landing. What he saw there almost knocked him back down.

The attic and roof were completely ablaze. It looked like the entire top of the house was made completely of fire. He coughed. The room was full of smoke so thick he could barely see his hands in front of his face. "Mother?" he called, choking on the smoke in his lungs.

But, if she answered, he couldn't hear it over the growl of the flames. Mustering his courage, he groped through the smoke, squinting his eyes against the ash-filled air. The heat on his skin was overwhelming and he felt his skin tighten in an attempt to shield him from the blaze. Tears streamed down his face as his eyes fought against the smoke. Desperation started to sink in. _Where could they be?_ Pubert tried to squash the thought that they'd already been burned to ash.

Suddenly, he saw them. It seemed as though Lurch had punched a hole through the roof so that Mrs. Addams could get out of the smoke-filled attic and combat the blaze from above. Pubert saw the open area as moonlight filtered in against the fire and a fresh breeze hit his face. As he ran to them, he registered the fire extinguishers in their hands and Lurch's soot-stained face grunting in determination as he beat the surrounding flames, a fire extinguisher in each hand. He fell into step at Lurch's side and looked up through the hole in the roof. There she was, her black hair and long black sleeves whipped around in the wind, her angular body perching like a cat on the roof. Morticia reigned over the smoldering mansion, battling the flames with only a fire extinguisher and the force of her will.

* * *

Wednesday notched another flaming arrow into her crossbow, brought the sight up to her eyes, and arched an eyebrow contemptuously before letting her arrow fly. The vampire she'd been aiming at sensed her arrow a moment too soon, so, instead of burrowing deep into the vamp's heart and sending it up in flames, the arrow only grazed his arm. He howled in pain, but stood relatively unharmed.

"Shit," Wednesday cursed. "Damn vamps move too fast."

Pugsley grunted as he loaded a round into his grenade launcher. "I told you, you need a bigger bang." He threw a quick smirk her way before setting his sights and pulling the trigger.

Wednesday watched, her interest only mildly peaked. A loud BANG threw Pugsley nearly halfway back into the room, but Wednesday watched as the grenade flew out of the open window and BOOM, reduced the vampire to a smoldering pile of ash.

Wednesday smiled despite herself, but, as Pugsley got up and crawled back over to the window, she wiped the grin off her face.

Turning a stoic and utterly annoyed face on Pugsley, she said, "That one was mine."

Pugsley laughed. "What did I tell you? Bigger bang."

* * *

On the battlefield, that is to say, the Addams' backyard, Lilith screamed in rage as her bodyguard exploded in a cloud of ash. She turned her ice blue eyes, now pulsing with rage, up to the source of the explosion.

She saw them clearly, brother and sister, leering out of the window. Safe in their little house. She scoffed. _For now. _She looked up to the roof. The flames were bleeding into the night sky, still burning strong. _But wait,_ she thought, _what is that?_ She focused her superhuman vision on the sight, and there it was, silhouetted black against the bleeding orange, the shape of a human female, beating back the flames.

Anger flooded through her. But, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone – replaced by a slow smile curling her lips in a sickening display of vengeance. As a new plan formed itself in her mind, her eyes raked the battlefield, eager to see how she might move her pawns in attack.

The scene was rather sparse, she admitted to herself, eagerly anticipating the battles to come when the entire army of Hell would be at her command. Her eyes found Joel, wielding a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, fire glinting green in his eyes, his face contorted in a vicious snarl, the silver of the blades glinting in the moonlight. Both of her girls circled him, swords and daggers drawn, their fangs bared, attacking with such speed that Lilith knew human eyes would only register dark and flashing blurs clashing and spinning in a vortex of violence and grace. Lilith, of course, could see the stances, hear each clash of metal against metal, the lush tearing of metal against flesh, and the sharp punctuated growls of the vampires locked in deadly combat. She smiled. It was music to her ears.

As she watched, her girls were fighting well – using their superior numbers to overwhelm him, coordinating their strikes in perfect synchronization. With a sudden swipe of a sword, Joel grabbed the side of his face as fresh blood oozed down his cheek. He fell to one knee, but only for a second. With a determined growl, Joel was up and fighting anew.

But, despite this, Lilith could see that Joel was tiring.

She had to admit, she was impressed, he was more than holding his own against the girls. Against one adversary, he would be unstoppable, but with two, he was fighting for his life. She smiled again. Everything was going according to plan.

Lilith's eyes were suddenly drawn to the fight between Ethan, her final remaining bodyguard, and Gomez Addams. She sighed, watching Ethan fight. He'd never been her favorite. She'd preferred Derek. But he'd just gone up in flames. Ethan would have to do.

Gomez was a fearless and agile fighter. She liked him immediately. The two fighters clashed and spun, and, despite being human, Gomez was keeping in step without too much effort. Fire-tipped arrows fell around her and the fighting pair, but Lilith could tell the children in the window were hesitant about landing arrows too close to Joel or their father.

She smirked as an arrow landed inches from her feet. _Amateurs_, she thought. The boy was loading another round into his grenade launcher. She laughed and then jumped high, easily avoiding the explosion. But as she drifted back down to earth, a startling sight caused her to shriek in horror.

Ethan stumbled slightly as a piece of shrapnel cut into his shoulder. He yelled out, distracted by the unexpected pain. Gomez, noticing his distraction and mirroring his every step, took an opportune swing and brought his blade down on Ethan's outstretched arm, cutting off the arm at the shoulder.

"NO!!" Lilith screamed. She watched in horror as Gomez raised his sword over the prone body of Ethan who was writhing on the ground, gripping the bleeding stump that had been his arm. His wild eyes mirrored hers. Even if he lived, the amazing healing powers of vampires didn't extend to re-growing limbs. He was permanently damaged.

With a feral yell, Lilith changed the trajectory of her fall and brought her feet down heavily against Gomez's chest, knocking him away from Ethan's body. She landed heavily, feeling the crunch of Gomez's ribs breaking under her feet.

As she smiled down on him, he brought his sword arm up, a determined glare warring with the expression of pain across his face. She chuckled as she kicked his sword away and pinned his arm to the ground with one foot.

"Mr. Addams, I presume?" Lilith said sweetly, cocking her head in a coy manner.

To her surprise, Mr. Addams smiled back. "Lilith? Is it?" His suave voice was marred by a breathlessness caused by his broken ribs and Lilith's weight on his chest.

Lilith was about to say more when a yell across the field caught her attention. Melody had pinned Joel's arms behind his back momentarily and Veronica was preparing to spring, no doubt to rip Joel's head from his shoulders.

"STOP!" Lilith screamed, exerting her will and freezing Veronica in her place. The girl halted, an expression of agony crossing her face, before she snapped her head in Lilith's direction, awaiting her mistress' next order. "Take him," she said.

If she was confused, Veronica hid it well. She nodded stiffly before turning back to her prey.

"Ethan," Lilith ordered, "Assist them, and fall back." He stood, ignoring the bleeding stump of his arm and assisted the girls in subduing Joel who was steadily beating back their advances. In a sudden glance, Joel locked eyes with her, reading the acquisitive glow that lit them. His eyes widened in shock and he fought with new vigor. Lilith smiled. _You will be mine again_, she thought.

Beneath her feet, Gomez stirred, and anger flooded her again. _You have taken my sons from me!_ she thought, her fangs bared. A hideous snarl contorted her face and a hiss slipped between her teeth.

Gomez smiled up at her, amplifying her anger.

Lost in her anger, she didn't notice the flaming arrow flying toward her head until it was inches from her skin. Even so, she snagged the arrow seconds before it pierced her and snapped her eyes up to the open windows.

Glaring, her eyes locked with Wednesday Addams', a crossbow still cocked in her hands.

Suddenly Lilith realized the chink in Gomez' armor.

Replacing her snarl with a sweet smile, she leaned down to Gomez's face, kneeling on his chest. His breath rushed out in a whoosh as she dug her knees in his broken ribs.

"You have something I need," she crooned. She caressed the side of his face with her hand. He held her gaze impassively, as if her words, her closeness, and her touch had no effect on him.

"But which one shall I take," she whispered, pretending to be in the throws of a dilemma. His brow furrowed without his permission. He was beginning to wonder what she was talking about.

She smiled in response. "Perhaps I shall take both, as you and your family have taken both my boys from me."

Gomez' eyes widened, suddenly suspecting what she was implying. He clenched his teeth, refusing to let her goad him into speech.

She smiled, bent down, and kissed him. As she pulled away, she dug her knee harder into his ribs. Unbidden, a moan of agony escaped out of Gomez' mouth. Lilith giggled and then whispered into his ear, "Stay here, love. I have an appointment with your wife, and I'm long overdue."

Gomez howled in fear and writhed with renewed agony as Lilith jumped off his chest, crushing his ribs and his lungs under her weight. And as his body flirted with unconsciousness, fear unlike any he'd ever known consumed him.

* * *

Wednesday watched in horror. Joel was fighting an impossible battle, her father was pinned beneath Lilith, and she was hidden up in the house unable to help either of them. _No!_ she thought, _I won't stand by and do nothing!_

Standing, she turned to Pugsley. "If you can get a shot off, take it. I'm going down there!"

Pugsley was no fool. He knew their position was becoming less and less effective and that, even if he dared, there was no way he'd be able to convince Wednesday to stay. He nodded and said, "Take a stake and this." He put a small object in her hand. It was roughly oval but with a sharp spike sticking out from the bottom.

She eyed it warily. "What is it?"

Pugsley smiled hugely. "It's a stake bomb. Stick that in a sucker and, even if you miss the heart, the following explosion will take care of it." His sadistic smile lit up his face.

Normally Wednesday's sadistic smile would have outshined her brother's in wicked intensity, but in her present state, all she could manage was a grim nod. Gripping her weapons, Wednesday hurried down the stairs.

And so, she missed Lilith's leap off her father's chest and the heavy THUD of her feet landing on the still smoldering roof.

* * *

The flames were resilient, but Morticia, Lurch, and Pubert battled them back from raging tongues to gently smoldering embers. They were soot-stained and singed, but feeling triumphant.

Morticia stood on the roof, the night wind ripped through her long black hair, the moonlight glinting off her pale skin. Taking a deep breath of clear, crisp night air, Morticia tipped her face up to the moon, feeling the cool moonbeams on her face.

Suddenly the moon's rays were obscured by shadow.

The only hint of danger that Morticia got before she was suddenly confronted by a vengeful, bloodthirsty vampire was the slightest whiff of lilacs on the night breeze. Even so, it was enough.

Morticia took a languid step backward at the last second, causing Lilith's feet to land with a THUD on the mansion roof, rather than on her chest.

Morticia crossed her arms and raised an imperious eyebrow. "Lilith," she drawled, a small smile curling her lips.

Lilith spread her arms in a decidedly bat-like gesture, her coat flying in the wind and her blond hair glinting in the moonlight, curling around her face like the halo of an angel. But, the sadistic smile that rent her face was anything but angelic.

"Morticia." Her voice wrapped around Morticia's name like a caress. "It's been too long," she crooned.

"You haven't changed a bit," Morticia replied, detached.

Lilith smiled, looking pleased. "Just another of the perks of immortality," she smirked.

"You're not immortal," Morticia replied, a menacing edge cutting her tone.

"Oh no?" Lilith mocked, "Then what you would call eternal youth and limitless power over God and mortals?" she smiled hugely.

But before Morticia could answer, Pubert's voice rent the air, "Mother?" he cried.

Morticia spun at the sound of his voice and saw his tiny head poking out through the hole in the roof.

"Get back inside NOW, Pubert," Morticia cried, fear making her voice high and fierce.

Pubert, who had never heard his mother raise her voice before in his life, let out a little yelp before ducking his head back into the safety of the house. For a split second, Morticia saw the little boy he was beneath the suave swagger he inherited from his father.

When she turned back, Lilith's eyes glinted with victory.

"So very like his father," she crooned, her eyes lingering on the spot where Pubert's head disappeared back into the house. "You've done well for yourself Morticia," she continued. "It seems beauty has always surrounded you," her voice turned thoughtful, "Ophelia, your beautiful children, and your," she paused, a erotic moan filling her throat, "_delicious_ husband."

Morticia's eyes narrowed.

"He will make such an attractive grieving widower. But don't worry; it will be mypleasure to _comfort _him in your absence." Lilith smiled wickedly.

At this Morticia fished a dagger from her bodice and hurled it at Lilith's face. Lilith staggered back, the dagger's tip caught between her two fingers.

Lilith brought the dagger away from her face, and noticed, with a start, that it was dripping with blood. She raised her free hand to her face. The tip of the dagger had cut a small gash next to her left eye. She stared at the blood staining her fingers. And then, with a growl, slid into a crouch and hurled herself, claws extended, at Morticia.

* * *

In the backyard, Gomez was struggling to get up off the cold, hard ground. Lilith had broken at least four of his ribs, and even breathing was a struggle. He'd had pain before. Hell, under the right circumstances, Gomez reveled in pain. But now was not the time for masochistic indulgences. His wife was in mortal danger and he HAD to help her.

Amidst his struggles, Gomez caught a black blur in the corner of his vision. _Morticia?_ he thought, turning his head to see properly. What he saw scared him nearly as much.

Wednesday was ducking and dodging her way through vampire strikes in an attempt to get to Joel's side. Armed with only two small weapons, Wednesday looked exceedingly small and vulnerable in comparison to the tall, vicious, vampires circling her.

With both his daughter and his wife battling for their lives, Gomez experienced an adrenaline rush. Gritting his teeth against unbearable pain, he lifted himself off the ground. Raising his eyes to the roof, he saw a sight he couldn't have imagined, even in his worst nightmares.

A luminous figure, her dark coat and golden hair flapping in the building winds, raised a white fist toward the glowing moon. Gomez' breath caught in his chest, for, clutched in Lilith's raised fist, white fingers crushing around her pale throat, was his wife, her feet kicking, her red nails digging into Lilith's flesh, and her black hair billowing in the breeze as if trying to escape on its own.

"Cara!!" he screamed, his voice laden with heart-breaking agony.

For an earth-shattering moment, all action ceased and all eyes turned to Lilith and Morticia.

Gomez watched in horror as Lilith turned victorious eyes on him. She smiled a sinister smile and looked down upon the scene as a general surveying her forces.

Her eyes fell upon an interesting sight. Joel and Wednesday stood back-to-back, barely touching, staring down their attackers with a fearless intensity that made Lilith smile.

In an instant, she made her decision.

Throwing a final, smoldering look at Gomez, Lilith stared deeply into Morticia's eyes. Her eyes were growing wide with oxygen deprivation, her struggles becoming more and more feeble, but even so, the hatred in Morticia's gaze was staggering.

Lilith leaned in close, holding Morticia's face only inches from her own, and whispered, "Alas, my dear, immortality is not for everyone. Goodbye, Morticia." And, holding her body over roof's edge, overlooking the front yard, Lilith released her.

And as she fell, the sounds of her husband's screams filling her ears, she whispered, "Mon cher, Je t'aime" before the blackness claimed her.

* * *

Without a backward glance, Lilith soared off the roof. Ignoring the tortured screams as Gomez ran to the aid of his wife, Lilith landed lightly just outside the ring of vampires circling around Joel and Wednesday. She was pleased to note that Ethan's arm had stopped bleeding.

For a brief moment she locked eyes with Wednesday Addams. The girl radiated with fiery rage, her black eyes burning with bloodlust, and her entire body shaking with grief, anger, and a vengeance so potent it made Lilith ever so slightly jealous. _She's perfect_, Lilith thought.

And then, in a lazy gesture, did what all of her minions had yet failed to do. With a disinterested movement, she unearthed two darts from inside of her coat, and with a single flick, imbedded them in the throats of Joel and Wednesday. Joel flinched aside, causing the dart to merely scratch his skin, but the poison was potent.

Wednesday spun rapidly, her eyes glued to Joel's face. He watched helplessly as Wednesday's eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed in his arms. He felt the sedative crawling through his veins, deadening his limbs and making his head spin. And just before he descended into darkness, he raised his eyes to Lilith's in an expression of defiance.

Lilith was struck again by his ferocious beauty, and, smiling to herself, thought, _Perfect._


	24. Into the Dark

**Thank you all for your amazing reviews! **

**Here's a comparatively short chapter, but don't worry, larger ones in the works.**

**As always, heed the rating ~M~, this gets a bit bloody.**

**Please Keep Reviewing - Let me know how I'm doing!**

**Enjoy~**

**~TLD  
**

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**Part Twenty-Four: Into the Dark**

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It had been a miracle, really. Or Fate. Or luck. Or whatever the force that puts exactly the right thing in the right place at the right time. Whatever that thing is, this was most definitely it.

If Lurch hadn't gone down into the front yard to battle the remaining flames with the garden hose, he'd never have been in the perfect position to catch her.

He'd looked up at the sound of a scream. And then he saw her – her graceful body, twisting and twirling like a fluttering flower of black fabric, her hair flapping around her face like bat wings, and her beautiful mouth opened slightly in a silent scream.

He'd never forget that look on her face. It wasn't frightened. It was – well, he couldn't find the words to describe it. Somewhere between fascination and pain, awe and ease, dread and exhilaration, Morticia's expression was like none he'd ever seen.

And although it fascinated him, it didn't keep him from positioning himself just right, and catching his falling mistress in his arms.

Of course, falling into Lurch's arms was a little like falling into the grasp of two steel girders.

Morticia's avid eyes had closed upon her fall.

And they had yet to open.

* * *

She woke to a startling darkness. She blinked, not quite sure that she'd really opened her eyes to such a complete and utter blanket of black.

She drew a deep, but shaky breath, before she was pierced with the horrible stabbing pain of two, maybe three, cracked ribs. Her body shook in response and the blackness seemed to blur as her eyes filled with tears. She tried to range out with her senses – listening intently despite the ringing in her ears and the frantic thumping of her own heart. But she could hear nothing aside from the distant echo of her own breathing in a cold, empty room.

Her vision swam and she got the horrible feeling that she was not alone in the blackness – that something lurked mere inches from her face, somehow hidden in the impenetrable darkness. She longed to bring her hands up to shield her face, or to explore the space in front of her, but she couldn't move them.

With a horrifying shock, she realized she couldn't feel them at all!

Her breathing hitched as her brain raced through conclusions too ghastly for her conscious mind to accept. Had they cut her hands off? Why couldn't she see? If they'd cut off her hands, could they have plucked out her eyes as well?

But amid her panic, she made out a tiny sound, distracting her from her distress.

It was a low, muted chuckle, coming from somewhere in the black.

Wednesday froze in her shuddering. She wasn't alone after all.

Despite it all, this fact served to calm and center her. And as her panic subsided, she found that she could focus.

_I can move my eyes. I can feel them under my eyelids._ She went through a mental inventory, her mind working clinically now that it was free of the gut-wrenching terror.

_Fingers? No feeling. Toes?_ She tried wiggling her toes in her boots. _Nope. No sensation._

She took another deep breath and the pain in her ribs sliced through her again. Focusing now, she concentrated on the shooting pains, noting where and when they stopped. _Just the extremities then_, she noted. _The paralysis is wearing off._

Immediately her brain ran through all the sedatives, tranquilizers, and anesthetics that she'd utilized throughout her long and bloody career of experimenting on her brothers, her pets, and any child stupid enough to incur her wrath. Based on the dose in the dart, Wednesday estimated she could have only have been unconscious for a few hours – most readily available tranquilizers burned out of the bloodstream in only a handful of hours – and that, at most, it would only be another hour or so before the sedative wore off completely.

Her mind raced on trying to put a name to the sedative in her veins, but her calculations were interrupted by a new sensation – tingling in her wrists and fingers. At the same time blackness in front of her eyes thinned slightly as her vision began to return. She felt the corner of her mouth turn up in a smile at the change.

But then, as the seconds ticked by and still she lay, helpless, immobile, and blind, Wednesday's smile fell. Like a pressure on her lungs, Wednesday felt her enemies looming. Her thirst for vengeance flared and she longed for a weapon, or even a snarky comment, to throw at her captors. But she grit her teeth in defiance. _Patience_, she told herself.

_I'll have my revenge. Soon._

_

* * *

  
_

For Joel, consciousness came slowly. And painfully.

Long before his vision returned, Joel was tormented by a crushing pressure on his wrists and a throbbing in his head that sent shock waves down his spine, over his broken ribs, across bruised and broken skin, and down to his toes, which were – rather troublingly – numb. Although he couldn't see, Joel felt his darkness spinning slowly, amplifying his pain with a sickening wave of nausea.

He passed the hours debating with himself which was worse – the pain or the nausea, distracting his brain from the more terrifying thought – that he AND Wednesday were now prisoners of Lilith – whose sadistic capacity for inflicting pain made the Marquis de Sade look like a childish prankster. The only comforting fact to grace Joel's tortured mind was, that Lilith must want them _alive_ for something, otherwise she'd have killed them both outright.

But, even as the thought crawled through his brain, Joel knew – whatever it was that Lilith wanted him for, or _wanted Wednesday for_ – Joel shuddered at the thought – it could very well be _far_ worse than death. A wave of foreboding washed over him, drenching him in a fear unlike any he'd ever known.

Abruptly, Joel was distracted from his mental anguish when he felt a new presence in the room. He didn't move, forcing his body to remain limp and lifeless. He kept his breathing even, scenting his visitor, while still looking unresponsive. An odor of thick vampire blood reached him, and the familiar hints of hair gel, leather, and the faint musky smell that always clung to…

WHAM!

Ethan threw a heavy, if not slightly sloppy, punch HARD into Joel's already broken ribs.

Unbidden, a scream of agony crawled up his throat.

"Oh good," Ethan hissed, "You're awake."

Joel kept his eyes closed, knowing his vision still hadn't returned. He didn't want to give Ethan the satisfaction of seeing his blind eyes wheel in his head. He held still and clenched his teeth, vowing silently that, no matter the pain, not another scream would escape his control.

"Joel?" Ethan called, mock concern coloring his tone. He waited for an answer, clicking his tongue impatiently.

Joel remained silent.

WHAM!

Joel felt his body spinning, tears, blood, and spit flying from his face, as Ethan cracked his jaw with a sickening crunch.

Gasping and unable to clench his jaw, Joel heard his own breath whooshing out of him in heavy, sobbing, gasps. The pain was unimaginable. Every pain from before laced through him anew, magnified a thousand times. Though he never screamed, the gasps racking his chest became hacking coughs as his broken ribs scraped against his lungs, filling his lungs with blood.

Finally, after long moment of terrifying struggle against the crushing pain and the suffocating pressure of his own blood in his throat, Joel's body calmed.

With forced nonchalance and his face contorted in utter disgust, Joel spit out a mouthful of blood onto the cold, stone floor.

Ethan laughed outright.

Joel felt his rage mounting, heightening his senses of the room around him. He was underground, that much was clear – the cold coming off of all the walls was strong and unfettered – no sunlight or wall coverings to temper it.

Finally he understood the pain in his wrists, the sickening spinning, and the numbness in his toes. He was suspended, hanging from the ceiling. _Probably on some kind of meat hook_, he thought.

_So a slaughterhouse then, _Joel mused. _Appropriate venue, _he thought venomously.

But his musings were interrupted. He could sense Ethan preparing another blow.

Instinctively sensing that this blow would knock him out – or worse, Joel tensed, trying desperately to focus on the attack and somehow, _somehow_ protect himself.

But as he fought for control, he felt his strength failing – his consciousness slipping away. And he knew, in any second, he'd be gone.

Ethan smirked with vindictive pleasure as he drew back his fist. Here was the reason he'd lost his arm, here was the man responsible for dragging them into this silly war – he should never have been allowed to exist, and now he was going to pay for it. Ethan took one sidelong glance at the bloodless stump that used to be his arm, grit his teeth in renewed rage, and –

"STOP!"

Lilith's cold, commanding voice crashed through the mounting tension – freezing Ethan in his place.

Joel tried not to shudder, but the malice and the barely-contained wrath laced in Lilith's voice made his skin crawl. He could no longer control the instinct of self-preservation and his eyes flew open in an attempt to protect him from the danger he couldn't see.

He expected blindness, so he was shocked to see Lilith's, slightly blurry, but still blazing red eyes boring into his own. A small, startled gasp escaped his lips before he caught his breath and hardened his face.

Lilith's features softened slightly, and she smiled. There was a warmth in her eyes, the likes of which he hadn't seen since the night of his initiation.

It made his stomach curl.

He dropped his eyes from hers, the sudden intimacy of her gaze making him nauseous.

And so he didn't see her bring her hand up to his face.

But suddenly, he felt her cold caress on his bruised and broken face. He winced slightly.

And then, like lightening, her hand was gone.

Joel's eyes whipped up, but even so, by the time he saw Lilith, she was across the room, crouching over Ethan's thrashing body – his stump of an arm crushed under her heel and his face contorted in agony and gasping for breath as she crushed his windpipe in her hard, clawed fingers. Lilith's eyes burned with rage and her fangs glinted in the darkened room.

Her voice screamed out in a torturous hiss. "He's damaged!!" she shrieked.

Ethan's response was indecipherable, but his eyes wheeled around the room and his body jerked in sharp, panicky movements.

"What did I tell you?" Lilith continued, "What did I _command_ you?" Her voice hitched up another octave, scraping against the walls like nails on a chalkboard.

Ethan's face was turning blue and pools of blood formed along his neck from Lilith's claws puncturing his skin.

"M-m-my Qu-qu-" Ethan choked out. "Ple-" But before he could finish, his eyes rolled into his head as unconsciousness swallowed him.

"Ugh!" Lilith dropped his limp body in disgust. She stood slowly, her back turned to Joel. She paused and drew several deep breaths before turning back to him, slowly.

When she turned, her smile glinted subtly, her blue eyes sparkled like diamonds, and her face bore a sweet, serene expression so expertly applied that she could have fooled any man into believing her a saint.

Almost.

Joel's eyes narrowed. Something was horribly wrong. And he had a feeling he was about to find out just _how wrong_ it really was.

* * *

Pubert paced outside of his parents' bedroom, his tiny head bowed with grief and worry. Gomez had insisted that Pubert and Pugsley remain outside the room as he, Mama, and Lurch had carried Morticia up to her bed. They never came back out.

So instead of spending what could be the last moments of his mother's life with her, he was relegated to waiting in the hall wondering how bad it really was.

It was his fault, he knew. His father had entrusted his mother's safety to him, and he'd blown it. He'd obeyed his mother and had hidden away like a coward as that horrible witch had thrown her off the roof.

Thrown her, possibly, to her death.

While he hid.

Pubert drowned in self-disgust. Tears of shame and grief and anger and fear poured down his cheeks as if they'd never stop.

And as the minutes ticked away, he waited in the hallway. And he paced.


	25. Broken

**Something of a short chapter, but very dramatic. Longer chapters in the works, don't worry! Sorry - I promise we are getting back to Wednesday soon!  
**

**Thanks for the amazing reviews!**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**~TLD  
**

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**Part Twenty-Five: Broken**

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The darkness behind her closed eyes was painful, and so consciousness came and went, as dimmer switch turned up and down. Her mind and body would feel the strength to endure the agony only to be crushed again and retreat back into the unfeeling black abyss, cloaking itself in its comforting nothingness.

And so it was, during one of her short bouts of semi-consciousness that she heard him.

"My cara; cara mia," he murmured, his voice the sweetness of black silk. He heaved a deep sigh, releasing his breath softly. Even so, he couldn't completely control his emotion and his sigh was laden with a soft but heartbreaking moan.

"My love, my heart," he whispered, his voice crumbling under his emotion. "Come back, Tish. Come back to me."

The pain grew in her, pushing hard against her will, thrusting her back into the black. But she fought it, not wanting to lose Gomez's velvety voice in her ear. She tried to ignore the pain and the spinning it caused in her head.

Suddenly she felt it. Soft, warm lips on her hand. Sweet, deep kisses on the inside of her wrist.

She smiled involuntarily. New pain laced through her, causing her to gasp aloud.

And then the black curtain descended again.

* * *

Joel's eyes had adjusted to the low light of the cold, concrete cell, so that he could see her before him in stark detail. Her blond hair, her pouty red lips, and her sparkling blue eyes loomed before him. And, though she smiled at him and gazed upon his face as a lover might dote upon her beloved, he'd never been more afraid of her.

_What the Hell is going on_, he thought.

He controlled his breathing. His guarded eyes were riveted on her face.

"Ah, Joel," Lilith sighed. Her voice stroked his name like a caress. "My beautiful boy, you're injured," she added, her voice sad and wistful. Her beautiful face was contorted into a heartbreaking expression of sadness.

Joel raised an eyebrow sarcastically. "I thought that was the idea." His voice was scathing and ice cold.

Lilith's eyes glinted with humor, her face amused and dangerous – a cat playing with her prey. She giggled, "Ah. Well, yes," she admitted between giggles, "it _was_." She let the implication linger.

Joel couldn't help it. He took the bait. "What changed?"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Lilith's childish voice chided, "Not so fast, Joel! I won't let you ruin the surprise just yet. But, don't worry. You'll understand soon enough." She smiled a knowing smile and made Joel's blood run cold.

"But first," she continued, light-hearted, "we have to get you patched up." She stroked his cheek patronizingly. Joel grit his teeth to keep from wincing at the pain in his cheek and jaw.

Lilith brought her face inches from Joel's. Her body brushed against his, sending an electric shock across his bruised and broken ribs.

He dropped his head, letting his body relax in attempt to put distance between his body and Lilith's. But as her ruby lips – and the razor sharp fangs beneath them – brushed his cheek, Joel's body stiffened involuntarily, his eyes flashing fear and then defiance.

He held his breath, waiting for Lilith's fangs to pierce his throat.

Lilith smiled as she brought her lips to Joel's ear. And then she whispered, slowly and clearly, "You'll need to feed."

Joel's hardened expression dropped away, momentarily replaced by a look of sheer, unmitigated horror.

She was right, of course. Joel could feel it within him, the beast rising up, begging for blood to mend and strengthen him. Between the fight and the subsequent torture, Joel was nearly spent. He balked at the thought of being alone in a room with any human at the present moment.

The truth hit him like a battering ram – he'd never be able to control himself.

Lilith could feel his panic, and knew her words had hit home. She pulled back, reveling in the waves of panic that poured off Joel, basking in the glow of his hardened mask as it minutely slipped from his face. She smiled. His pain was glorious. She fought the urge to let her chin tip up and her eyes roll back into her head at the sheer pleasure of his panic.

"I'm going to release your bonds, Joel. And then, my pet, you will have a choice." Lilith's languid voice swirled through the pounding in Joel's veins. He struggled to keep his eyes from wheeling around the room like a caged animal.

Lilith's eyes glinted with pleasure, "Kneel at my feet, and kiss my hand," she drawled.

A disgusted hiss erupted from Joel's throat.

Lilith's gloating face hardened slightly, and when she continued, the words came out hard and fast, "and I will make sure your next meal _doesn't_ consist of a pale, moon-faced, little –"

But whatever Lilith was going to call Wednesday was drowned out by Joel's furious growls and the clanging of his chains as his body thrashed. His eyes burned with Hellfire and his fangs glinted, razors in his mouth.

Lilith smiled back.

"Or –" she chimed, her voice full of amusement.

Joel's growls subsided, though his eyes burned in the chalky pallor of his tortured face.

"Or," Lilith repeated, and now her eyes narrowed into slits and her face burned with malice, "continue to oppose me…"

She raised an eyebrow and her expression turned mocking. "I'll leave you here, Joel. Alone. Bleeding. Unchained…"

Joel caught his breath, deathly silent, as Lilith's words echoed through the small room. They felt like daggers, slicing into him.

Lilith smiled, pleased with her captive audience.

"And when the hunger takes you, your eyes burning red with the bloodlust, you'll scream in agony, you'll beg and plead, howling for blood. And," she paused dramatically, "when you can't stand it anymore…"

Joel's eyes fell, imagining the images she painted for him. His face contorted in pain. He could see himself, feral and unhinged, pacing the small room – writhing in agony, burning for blood…

"I'll bring her in here with you, Joel."

Joel's eyes shot up, focusing on Lilith's amused face. Sheer, unmitigated horror splashed plainly across his face. His mouth opened slightly in defeat, his brow creased with pain and self-loathing.

Her grin widened, "I'll lock her in. Let you two have a little privacy," she added. "I wonder if she'd scream," she mused, seeming oblivious to Joel's shaking form as the images tortured him. She turned to him, smiling hugely, "What do you think?" she mocked, "When she saw what's become of you, when she sees the beast, hears you shriek for her blood…" she let her voice fade away.

Joel was shaking his head so fiercely, as if he could throw the words from his mind. He winced visibly, his mind revolting against the mental images she drew for him, his whole body shaking with rage and disgust.

But then, even as he writhed in agony, his body shuddered under a wave of distinct desire. He suddenly found himself remembering the smell of her blood from the knife wound. _Was that only the day before?_ The sight of it pouring across her neck and down her shoulder. The warmth of it pulsing in the air from across the room…

_NO!_ he shouted at himself sternly. _Stop! NO!!_

"No…" he said aloud, but his voice was barely more than a whimper.

Pleased, Lilith reached up and released Joel's shackled hands from the hook in the ceiling. He fell hard, landing first on his feet, but then lurching forward as his numb legs refused to hold him upright. He lay, face down, on the cold concrete floor, and, at first, Lilith thought he had no intention of moving.

But then, slowly, he pushed himself up, his face contorted in pain, low grunts of muted agony ripping through his chest, falling heavily back on his knees. Joel's head was bowed into his chest, as if the effort of lifting his chin was more than he could manage.

Lilith waited, her patience being aided by the toe-curling pleasure she experienced watching Joel's broken body and spirit bend to her will.

Joel took a deep breath. _There's no reason for her to keep her word_, he thought. _It's not a test, or a bargain_, he knew. This was simply Lilith's idea of play, of pleasure. She was just as likely to drag Wednesday in the room moments after he submitted to her as she was to strike him dead, or – least likely – keep her word.

_But would you risk Wednesday's life for the sake of your pride?_ his thoughts argued back. He had nothing, he knew. Nothing he could threaten Lilith with, nothing he could give or withhold to bargain for Wednesday's life. And no way to save her or himself.

_Only a fool would cling to his pride at a time like this, _a sarcastic voice in his head sneered. Even his thoughts mocked him.

And so, as he raised his eyes to Lilith's, and reached out his bruised and bloody hand to her, he sent up a silent prayer that the thrill of victory might be enough to placate Lilith – if only for a little while.

Lilith smiled coyly as Joel's open – albeit empty – eyes held her own. His hand extended toward her without even the slightest trembling. She felt her pride surging as she laid her hand in his. _Yes, _she thought, _he's perfect._

And as he brought his lips to her hand, his cold eyes still locked on her face, she thought, with a smile,_ Checkmate._


	26. Of Monsters and Mercy

**Forgive me for the long lapse between chapters! Also, please forgive any errors you might find in this chapter. It's been in the works for weeks now but only came together quickly this evening as inspiration took hold! Now, PLEASE heed the rating on this one ~M~ for blood, references to torture, and other macabre images.**

**Please Review! (Also if you find mistakes, please send them my way, as I said, my editing was not my finest for this chapter, I'm afraid)**

**Much more to come!**

**Enjoy~**

**~TLD  
**

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**Part Twenty-Six: Of Monsters and Mercy**

* * *

Pugsley sat in the cool dark of his room. The only sounds interrupting the seamless silence were the occasional creaks in the old decrepit house, the rhythmic pounding of small feet pacing in the hallway, the deadened moan that meant his father was still lying in anguish beside his mother's bedside, and the clicking of the computer mouse as he scrolled idly through his usual virtual haunts.

He'd excused himself from the vigil taking place in his mother's room and outside in the hallway. His father's moans and his brother's pacing were too much for him to bear.

He wasn't a moper. He'd never been.

Pugsley was a man of action. And sitting around for his mother to… well, sitting around waiting was simply out of the question.

So he put his mind to the task of figuring out where Wednesday and Joel had disappeared to. He'd seen the darts in their necks and the vampires dragging their lifeless bodies away, but in the frenzy of bringing his mother in the house and putting out the remaining fires, he hadn't gotten a clear idea where they were headed.

Just as a new idea popped into his head, a new sound disturbed the symphony of creaks, footsteps, moans, and clicks, immediately catching his attention. He froze, and for a moment thought he'd imagined the sound.

But just as he went back to clicking away, the sound rose again.

Pugsley rose slowly, creeping after the source of the sound as if sneaking up on prey.

_A voice?_ he thought, trying to place the noise. It didn't sound completely human, but certainly not mechanical. _Maybe some kind of animal then, _he thought.

The tiny creaks of his footfalls were masked in the other creaks and groans of the house, but he kept his pace slow, stopping to listen and to track the location of the sound.

As he passed Pubert in the hall, he noticed his little brother's eyes seemed swollen, though no tears were to be found. He seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, jumping slightly when Pugsley patted him on the shoulder.

Pubert's shocked eyes leaped to Pugsley's face, but Pugsley smiled a tight grin and squeezed Pubert's shoulder in brotherly comfort. Distracted, Pubert nodded heavily and returned to his pacing.

Just then a loud CLANG erupted from the kitchen downstairs. Pugsley shook with surprise and hurried toward the source of the sound. A quick backward glance revealed that Pubert hadn't even reacted to the loud noise.

Pugsley hurried to the kitchen door, and just as he was about to burst through, he paused.

_The noise_, he realized. He listened.

Without the distortion of traveling through the winding corridors of the old mansion, Puglsey recognized the sound easily now. Not animal, but human. Not a noise, but words.

He didn't recognize the words. He doubted anyone could. They were of a language so old none still lived to speak it. _Either that or Mama made it up_, he thought, snickering to himself.

He relaxed fractionally. _Mama's just talking to herself again_, he thought. _Probably brewing up some concoction to cure Mother_. He took a deep breath, suddenly realizing he'd been holding it in.

Just as he was about to turn from the door and head back upstairs, a new sound reached him. And this sound curdled his blood.

"Tell me, witch," the voice whispered seductively. "What is the rest of the spell? Tell me…."

Pugsley recognized that voice.

* * *

"Wednesday?" A soft voice whispered her name with an edge of derision.

Wednesday smiled to herself.

She preferred it this way. She worked hard to surround her name with an infamous reputation. She was proud of the way that people spoke her name in whispered voices or with a telltale shudder that revealed them to be cowards. And when people addressed her directly – HA! – if they could muster enough courage to do so, Wednesday loved to hear that edge of anger to their tone that was an attempt to cover up their deep-seated fear.

But, it had all become too easy. Too commonplace. If she was being honest with herself, hearing that fear in their voices had become normal and, well, very boring. But this? Derision? She delighted in the challenge of it.

_Soon_, she thought, smiling. _Soon they too will fall._

With an exaggerated yawn, Wednesday stretched out her arms, and rose – albeit somewhat stiffly – from her prone position on the floor to a more comfortable seated position.

She opened her wide, black eyes with languid grace, but her disinterested expression bent slightly into amused contempt with the arch of one black eyebrow as she surveyed her surroundings.

The small room was dimly lit by the flickering light of a single, hanging bulb in the middle of the room. As Wednesay watched, the bulb swung slightly, as if pushed by a non-existent breeze. The walls and floors were bare, though they bore the traces of previous use. Holes and bits of chipped paint indicated where pictures might have hung, and the waterproofed floor showed signs of once being covered in carpet.

A muffled cough drew Wednesday's attention to the far corner of the room. The light was dimmer there, but she could clearly make out the shape and form of someone sitting there.

Tensing involuntarily, Wednesday shifted her position on the floor into a slightly more defensive posture.

The shape laughed softly.

"If I was going to hurt you, I'd have done so already," the soft voice sneered.

Wednesday's eyes narrowed at the girl's tone. It was definitely a girl, Wednesday was sure. She didn't have to wait long to learn the speaker's identity, because just then, Melody stepped into the light.

Her flaming red hair and her blistering red eyes pierced through the dim light with such ferocity that Wednesday was surprised she hadn't seen them before. Though her posture was overtly threatening and her fangs glinted against her parted lips, Wednesday stared back with a mixture of defiance and indifference.

"Well," Wednesday drawled, "I imagine you'd be hesitant to try, after what happened at our last encounter."

With a hiss and a flash of red, Melody was across the room, her hand squeezing against Wednesday's throat. Wednesday dug her nails into the girl's hand and her feet kicked wildly off the floor, but she couldn't break her grasp.

"Know this," Melody spat in Wednesday's face, "if it weren't for the Queen's order that you be left unharmed, I would take you apart, piece by piece, have you writhing in agony for days, _weeks even_, until you're screaming, begging me for the death that might never come." She smiled, thoughtful, "Maybe I'd change you, keep you myself. Torture you for eternity." She smiled hugely now, relishing her imaginings, as Wednesday's face turned blue.

Almost as an afterthought, she dropped Wednesday, who fell, sputtering back to the floor. She heaved in great gasps, trying to keep from passing out.

Just then, a click in the door lock caused Melody to turn away from Wednesday. As she headed for the door, she turned back slightly, "Who knows, perhaps after Lilith is done with you, she'll let _me_ play with you." She smiled again and then turned back to the door.

With a groan, the door swung inward and Veronica stood in the doorway. Melody smirked, and as they swapped places, she sneered, "Your turn. Enjoy."

And as the door clicked shut, Wednesday sighed heavily. Staring down angry glares was becoming rather tiring for one day. She crossed her arms around her chest, pushed herself into the corner of the room, and closed her eyes.

* * *

Joel paced his empty cell like a tiger in a cage. It'd been hours now since Lilith had drawn one cold hand across his cheek, smiled, and announced, "I'll go see what we have on tap," before striding across the cell, shaking a still-unconscious Ethan until he spluttered into wakefulness, and hoisting him roughly to his feet.

Just as they reached the threshold, she turned back and threw Joel a look, a glint in her eyes that made her look equally dazzling and dangerous. But her words were for Ethan.

"Ethan, dear," she said acidly, "We must fetch Joel something for dinner." She turned her eyes back to Ethan's sick grey face. Joel heard her voice lower and become menacing, "Surely you have something that you would be happy to share with your _brother_." Her eyes bore deeply into Ethan's, communicating, Joel assumed, far more than her words suggested.

Joel's assumptions proved correct as Ethan's eyes jolted wide and his breathing caught as he processed what Lilith meant. Joel watched his jaw tighten and his eyes narrow slightly in anger, before he controlled his expression. "Yes, my Queen," he answered stiffly, bowing slightly to hide the look of rebellion in his eyes.

The door had slammed shut with a hollow thud that made Joel suddenly, horribly claustrophobic. That's when he began to pace.

It was just as Joel had suspected, he wasn't going to be allowed to find his own prey. And as his 'relatives' did not share his aversion to human blood…

He paced restlessly as waves of dread rolled over him. Each sickening wave hit him like a ton of bricks as he imagined various faces of the doomed human they'd toss at his feet. Guilt warred with the burning hunger that was just beginning to take hold. As his conscious mind felt more and more faint, the beast in his chest grew in strength, and he felt it growl in pleasure and desire as each new face swam in his thoughts.

Joel swallowed hard, trying to draw his thoughts away from the bloodlust that was making his mouth water and his eyes warm.

Perhaps it was lucky, then, that as the door opened, the face he saw next drove all thought from his mind.

Two overlarge, unfocused eyes seemed to stare right through him. Her pale, watercolor blue irises seemed to swell and pulse with unshed tears, forever locked as if behind glass. Her skin was pale, but unnaturally so, as if her normally plush complexion had soured from weeks of darkness and blood loss.

And the _blood_.

Joel's jaw dropped in shock of all the blood. Clotting blood stained her soft blonde hair, dripped in dried streaks across her face and neck. Gashes on her arms drew his eyes to her slack fingers, and traveled down her body, following the trail of purpling bruises down her bare thighs and knees, to bloody bare feet, that rested, seemingly unconcerned by the cold floor on which they sat.

"Your dinner, _brother."_

Joel's eyes jumped up, finding Ethan's face for the first time since the girl had entered the room. His face was contorted in barely concealed fury, blatant disgust etched across his forehead.

And suddenly, Joel understood. She was Ethan's prey.

_Pet_, he corrected himself, remembering Ethan's sadistic habit of kidnapping his prey and torturing them for weeks until anemia, shock, injury, or Ethan's own capricious pleasure finally killed them.

Looking again, he saw the bite marks mottling her skin. Every inch that was not covered by what looked like the remains of a sweet, white nightshirt, was swollen in reds and blues.

Joel's eyes burnt with anger and his fangs slid out in a furious hiss.

"You sick bastard," Joel hissed menacingly.

Ethan's fangs glinted and a ferocious growl filled the small room.

The girl didn't even flinch.

Joel tensed for a fight, relishing the idea of ripping the sadistic bastard to shreds, but, in a huff, Ethan, shoved the girl, knocking her to the ground before Joel's feet, and disappeared through the door.

With the heavy click of the lock, Joel felt his righteous anger slowly spoiling. Ethan may be the more sadistic monster of the two, but Joel was still a monster, himself.

Isn't that why, as the girl's torturer left the room, Joel's mouth began to water with the scent of her blood?

With a spike of revulsion, he threw himself across the room, putting as much distance between the girl's motionless body and himself as possible.

From the far corner, he saw her stir. With shaky hands, she pushed herself up to a sitting position, and dragged herself with one arm – the other tucked carefully against her ribs – against the wall facing Joel. Her feet dragged lifelessly behind her, and he bit back tears at the sheer unspeakable damage done to this girl. She didn't wince, she'd didn't cry. Her unfocused eyes gazed away as shallow breaths racked her chest.

_She's gone_. Joel thought sadly. Whoever this girl was, whoever she'd been before she'd be brutally beaten and torn, _that_ girl was gone. All that was left was the broken, suffering shell of what used to be.

Joel's heart wanted to cry – wanted to wrap the poor girl in his arms, try to soothe her injuries and chase away her demons. But his body _ached_. His injuries mocked him, picking away at his control, at his consciousness, begging for the blood to mend him.

_I'm a monster_, he thought, his self-loathing reaching an all-time high. _No better than the lot of them_.

He could see no escape. No way to save his girl and himself… and, oh God, Wednesday! Joel's forehead crumpled to the ground as the image of the terribly battered girl was superimposed with long, black hair, and deep black eyes.

_Monster!_ The word burst through his mind like a scream and a muffled moan escaped his lips.

He brought his clawed hands to his face, tangling them in his hair, as if the answer to his situation lay in the palms of his hands.

He knew it didn't make sense, and he didn't know if God listened to the prayers of the damned, but the thought burst unbidden from his heart.

_God please… Mercy… please, just let me save her. _He'd been thinking of Wednesday, but when he opened his eyes, he suddenly understood what he had to do.

With a deep breath, he stood, his hazel eyes heavy. The smell of her blood on the air tickled his throat, making the beast within purr expectantly. _No, _he thought savagely, forcing the beast down, _you'll not conquer me today. _

And in a flash, he remembered his words to Morticia, _I may not be a man, but I'll not consent to live as a beast_.

With slow footsteps, he crossed the cold room, his hazel eyes locked on the girl's slack, empty face.

"Forgive me," he whispered. To whom, he wasn't sure.

The girl didn't look up or acknowledge his approach in any way.

Joel kneeled before the broken girl, bringing his face level with hers. The scent of her body, so close now, nearly unhinged him. The sight of her weak, crumpled form tortured him, begging him to protect her, to save her. Before it was a conscious thought, Joel reached out a hand to her and cupped her swollen cheek with a soft hand.

Where the ferocious hiss and the bone-grating growl from earlier had made no effect of her, this gentle touch caused her eyes to flick into focus. And suddenly, he was gazing into her direct, though foggy, watery-blue gaze.

It was the directness of her gaze that froze him.

Shame almost made him break her gaze, but he held it, his soft hazel eyes, holding and soothing her.

After a long moment, the pressure on his hand increased as she leaned lightly into him. The tears that had been locked in her eyes started to well, and a sudden, tiny whimper smothered in her throat.

Joel was shocked by how quickly he understood. _She must be in unspeakable pain._

He stared deeply into the watercolor depths, drawing her into his thrall. This much he could do for her.

He drew her in, washing away her pain, basking her in warm, tender caresses, easing her fears, erasing her memories of torture, filling her with a wave of contentment.

As he watched, her pain-stricken eyes melted and her vacant expression of shock warmed into a small smile. She closed her eyes, as if savoring the moment of bliss.

Joel leaned into her, rubbing his cheek against her, before burying his face in her neck.

She wouldn't feel the bite. She wouldn't feel the draining pressure of her blood being drawn away. She would feel only pleasure as her life slowly slipped away.

Joel crushed his eyes shut, fighting the self-loathing that threatened to distract him from what he knew he must do.

With a surge of intensity, he wrapped her more tightly in his thrall, and sank his teeth into the soft, pulsing vein in her neck.

The flash of images that slammed into him hit him so hard that he didn't hear the soft 'Oh' as her breath slipped out in a pleasurable sigh.

He saw her then, smiling and beautiful, her soft blond hair bouncing in the sun. Her parents, her friends, laughing. Images of sweet summer evenings and loving embraces filled his head. "Danielle!" her parents cried, cheering her on in some sporting event or another. And more, images of parties and vacations, school dances and sleepovers, raced through his mind with startling intensity, as if all the happy memories were pushing through at once, desperate to be relived.

Her body shivered delicately, but from pleasure or cold, Joel couldn't know. He clung to her tightly, her sweet blood soaking his parched mouth, filling the aching holes in his chest, but kept his hand soft against her cheek.

And then he saw it.

Ethan's form in the woods, a smile luring her in. Ethan's cruel hands caught in her hair, dragging her across the floor. The searing agony of Ethan's bites. Ethan striking her, breaking her bones, leaving her bleeding on the floor. He saw her tears, felt her pain, desolation, fear, and helplessness. And her screams rang through his mind.

The rage was building in him, more potent than he felt he could stand. In a sudden move, he pulled back slightly, wanting to escape the torturous visions that pierced his mind.

But before he could escape, her hand was there, cupping the side of his face, as if caressing a lover as he drew kisses down her neck. Her hand was soft, not forceful. It was as if she drew comfort from having him there and was reassuring herself that he was still with her.

The movement was shocking, and it froze him.

He could feel her body weakening as she slipped into the sleep of blood loss. He scolded himself for his cowardice, and as the final hideous images of Ethan's sick torture filled his mind, he grasped Danielle's hand with his free hand, and sent her all the comfort he could muster, as tears ran silently down his face.


	27. If I die before I wake

**Sorry, as always, for the long delay between chapters. This chapter is most definitely rated ~M~ explicit sexual content - consent is... ambiguous at best. I know I should really write more Plot-oriented chapters, but this idea just wouldn't leave me alone. I promise more plot explanation in the next chapter! **

**If you ever wondered what I meant by "vampire sex - love is a battlefield" ... well, now you'll see. **

**Please Review! Let me know how this chapter worked!**

**Enjoy~**

**~TLD  
**

* * *

**Part Twenty-Seven: If I die before I wake  
**

* * *

Gomez sat in the darkness of the bedroom he shared with his wife. The night was cool. A dampness seeped through the creaky old house, mingling with the ashy remnants from the fire, creating a stale, sour smell that the Addams' would have enjoyed in better times. But as it was, Gomez stared morosely at the motionless body of his one true love, begging the fates to take him instead or cast him down with her so that he might never be parted from her. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as he counted each of Morticia's breaths.

As such, he didn't hear the commotion in the kitchen downstairs.

Pugsley recognized the strange, compelling voice whispering through the kitchen door, and a cold, albeit brief, wave of dread coursed through him. Not one to look before he leaps, Pugsley barreled into the kitchen, the door slamming heavily behind him. He skidded to a stop when he saw her.

Her spectral form hovered over Mama's shoulder, blue eyes sparkling dangerously. Lilith.

"You!" Pugsley exclaimed. Without a second thought, Pugsley threw himself at Lilith in a flying tackle that should have brought her to the ground. Instead, his fists closed around air and he crashed heavily on the floor across the room. He pushed himself up with a groan as Lilith's cackling laughter filled the room.

Mama continued rambling in her ancient tongue, her eyes unfocused, her hands automatically stirring a bubbling concoction in the cauldron.

"Focus, Witch!" Lilith demanded, her attention completely returned to Mama. "Yes…" she cooed as Mama's chanting grew louder and more intense.

Pugsley jumped from the floor and ran to Mama's side. "Mama!" he shouted, "Stop!" He shook her roughly, trying to break her from her trance. But Mama's chant filled the kitchen and Lilith circled hungrily around her.

* * *

Gomez felt as though his heart was breaking into a thousand pieces. The silence of his darkened room was deafening as every second ticked away without his beloved stirring. He didn't know if he'd ever see those long, sharp eyes pierce him again. He searched her face, her high, angular cheekbones, her aristocratic nose, her pale, glowing skin, her soft, red lips. _Wake up, my love_, his thoughts begged, _Come back, cara mia!_ He sighed, a helplessness like he'd never known filling him completely.

Suddenly her dark eyes shot open.

"Cara!" Gomez shouted. But Morticia's horrorstruck expression silenced him.

"Gomez!" she cried, "She's here!" He tried to interrupt, but Morticia screamed, "Pugsley! Gomez, save Pugsley!" And with a final scream, she fell back into unconsciousness.

Gomez wasted no time. He jumped from Morticia's side and barreled into the hallway, nearly running over Pubert.

"Pubert!" Gomez gasped. "Where, where is Pugsley?" his breathing raced. Pubert's swollen eyes found his face.

"Downstairs, I think," Pubert responded, morosely. Gomez nodded hard, about to run down the stairs, but he froze, suddenly afraid to leave his wife so unprotected.

"Pubert, go sit with your mother until I return. Okay, son?" he asked when Pubert didn't respond.

Pubert's eyes welled with tears. "I… I can't, Father," he whimpered. "I… I failed you. I failed her… I…"

But Gomez interrupted him, "Pubert, please. Your mother needs you. _I_ need you."

Pubert's lower lip trembled, but he nodded hard and raced into his parent's room. Gomez's brow knit in concern, but Pubert's pain would have to wait. Suddenly he heard a shattering crash from the kitchen, and he raced like a bat out of Hell down the stairs.

When he threw open the kitchen door, the sight before him nearly stopped his heart. Mama huddled over a boiling cauldron, her eyes white and unfocused, muttering to herself in a language Gomez couldn't discern. Lilith hovered in the far corner of the room, seeming to drink in every word that slipped through Mama's clenched teeth. And Pugsley, partially hidden behind the stove, hurled pots and pans at Lilith's spectral form, dodging the knives and debris that Lilith hurled back at him.

They didn't look up at him when he entered and he wasn't particularly sure how to end this fight. The helplessness that had been pressing down on him since his wife was injured peaked as he watched his son fighting an impossible battle and his mother locked in her own world. The wave of helplessness threatened to swallow him whole, but, in a sudden surge, Gomez felt his helplessness replaced by sheer, unbridled rage.

"Enough!" he shouted, temporarily freezing everyone in their place.

Lilith's red lips curled up into a seductive pout. "Ah, Gomez," she cooed. "So nice of you to join us."

Gomez stood his ground, his expression souring into a disgusted grimace. "It's time for you to leave, _vampire,_" he sneered. Lilith floated toward him, her attention temporarily diverted from Mama.

"Oh, but I'm afraid I'm not quite finished here," she crooned. "And your home is quite lovely. Do pass my compliments on to Mrs. Addams," she paused, "Forgive me," she mocked, "the _late_ Mrs. Addams."

Gomez struggled to keep the rage off his face, and in a quick glance away from Lilith's mocking glare, Gomez noticed Mama's eyes flicker back into focus. He smiled slightly.

"Actually," he replied smoothly, nodding slightly to Mama, "you'll have to _forgive me_. You see, it is time for you to leave, whether you're ready or not." He smiled widely, and added, "Mama?"

Lilith turned startled eyes back to Mama just in time for Mama to shout, "Specter, be gone!" and weave a powerful warding spell, dispelling Lilith's image from the kitchen and ridding the Addams' home of her spirit. As her image faded, only the sounds of her shrieks remained, echoing through the empty corridors.

Slumping to the floor, Mama released a heavy breath. Pugsley and Gomez were quickly by her side, and led her, slowly, to the sitting room to rest. Finally, Gomez spoke, his voice low and concerned, "Mama, what was that all about?"

Mama's voice was brittle and hollow, "Bad news, Gomez. I'm afraid I've given her what just she needed the most…"

* * *

Back in his cell, Joel curled up in the corner of the room, unable to look at the cold, white body of the girl whose blood now mended him. Though his body was healing, Joel's mind could no longer bear the strain of his guilt, of his heartache, and of his fear. But, as Joel slipped into unconsciousness, he found himself falling, falling into a dream, into a memory that he hoped he'd never relive again.

It had been nearly a year ago, somewhere between the time that he'd gradually grown dissatisfied with Lilith's control and the day he tried to destroy them all. It was only a little over two years since he'd been changed, but the transformation was complete. No longer the scrawny, nervous boy, Joel had become a strong, angular, confident, and altogether fearsome creature. He'd learned Lilith's ways. He'd fought, injured, given and taken his share of the reckless, unapologetic violence of his kind, all the while hating himself and his 'siblings' with a growing, seething ire. But above all, he hated _her_. And she knew it.

Joel knew she saw it, knew she felt the fire of his hatred for her. She'd smile, her eyes sparkling with lust, and he knew she fed off his hate. She loved her control. She'd exert her will over her minions at horrible times, like this day, when, in combat practice before a blow, she'd frozen Ethan in place so he'd have to stand motionless and watch the blade fall. She loved to watch rebellion and obedience war in their eyes.

And so it was that after one of Joel's outbursts, his cutting words challenging her control, her order, that Lilith smiled seductively, and, running a soft hand across his shoulders, whispered in his ear, "Come to me tonight, my pet. After curfew," she commanded, "come to my rooms."

Joel had tensed under her touch and her command, feeling his entire being freeze under the weight of it. He kept the fierce glare locked on his face, not wanting her to see how her command made his stomach drop and his pulse race with fear and dread. It wasn't to be a treat, he knew. Not a reward. He'd dipped his chin in acknowledgement of her wishes and then as the darkened hallways flickered with half-light, he'd found his way to her rooms.

"Come in," she called in a soft voice before Joel had even knocked. He pushed open the door, and there she was, her soft, pale form enveloped in shimmering white fabric that wrapped her naked body in a translucent glow. Joel locked his features, trapping his expression in a display of interest, but none of the panic, anger, or arousal that coursed through him. He moved, wordlessly, to stand before her, noticing with a strange sense of satisfaction that he was taller than her. Without her signature heels, she fell an inch or two short of his six-one. He almost smirked. And then her piercing glare stabbed into him.

Her cool hands pressed into his chest, trailing goosebumps down his stomach until she reached the bottom edge of his shirt. And then her hands were on his flesh and he bit back a shiver. And she was pulling his shirt up and off, the fabric and her fingers brushing lightly against his skin, and he locked his jaw to keep from trembling.

"Ah," she sighed, staring hungrily at his exposed chest, her eyes glinting with desire. "Joel," she breathed, running her hands down the sharp contour of his clenched jaw, smoothing her fingertips across his collarbone, and down the panes of his sculpted chest. Against his will, Joel felt a tightening in his belly.

Her hands rubbed into the hard flesh of his shoulders, stroking down the lengths of his arms, wrists, hands. She lifted his hands, slowly, and, her lips pursed in amusement, laid them on her chest, right above the closure to her gown. Joel struggled to keep his expression neutral and his hands steady as he unclasped the tiny closure and watched as the shimmering material fell off her alabaster skin and pooled around her feet. In that instant, her blonde hair curling around her face, her blue eyes sparkling in the dim light, and her glorious body glowing white, emerging from the shining fabric on the floor, she was Venus rising out of the sea, and Joel was lost momentarily in her beauty.

His hands moved of their own accord, tracing the contours of her throat, the hollow at her collarbone, the smooth, silky mounds of her breasts, rubbing, tasting, sliding his fingers gently over the soft, trembling flesh, until she was breathing heavily, her gasping breaths caressing his skin and raising the hairs on the back of his neck. She shivered delicately, and suddenly her hands were on his shoulders.

Her grip was strong and hard, and Joel's eyes flicked to her face. Her pale skin was flushed slightly, but there was a wicked grin on her face. Joel felt the pressure increase on his shoulders. And suddenly he knew what she wanted. He stood his ground for a second, his natural inclination for rebellion flaring up, but a slight flash in Lilith's eyes startled him and he allowed her to push him down to his knees before her.

His fingers raised goose flesh down her sides as he knelt before her. His body obeyed her but his rebellion burned in his eyes. His hands paused on her curvaceous hips as he took in the sight before him, her smooth supple skin giving way to short, soft blonde hairs barely concealing her womanhood from him. Despite himself, he was mesmerized by the sight and feel of her. His fingers found her, tracing ever so slowly over her flesh, over her entrance, tickling and teasing the wetness from her. She shuddered, her clawed hand digging into Joel's shoulder. And suddenly, Joel couldn't hold back the desire that was building in him, and with a gasp, his mouth found her. His tongue traced her sensitive nub and he kissed and sucked, the feel and flavor of her making him moan. He was feral, his need was growing with each passing second, and finally his tongue entered her and he felt a sharp pang of pleasure stab through him. The taste, the warmth, the wetness of her unhinged him and he was sucking and fondling, the pleasure so intense, his need so acute that, in a swift move, he gripped her buttocks sharply and pulled her tighter against his mouth.

She was panting heavily, her pleasure mounting to a painful high and with a sudden surge, her clawed hand gripped Joel's hair – hard. He winced in pain and in that instant lost hold of the beast within him. With a hiss, his fangs stabbed into the soft skin above her nub. She screamed and Joel moaned in ecstasy as her blood mingled with her flowing wetness, the flavors exploding on his tongue and making his body shudder.

After a moment, her body stilled and she pushed Joel away. He fell heavily back on his heels, his hard bulge pressing painfully against his pants. She smiled as he wiped her blood and juices from his face. His hazel eyes swam with flashes of red as her blood affected him and the monster swam precariously close to the surface. Slowly, steadily, he rose, his eyes hard and direct.

He thought he saw an inkling of fear cross her features as he approached her, his hands automatically removing his belt. But then she smirked.

"That will be all," she commanded, freezing Joel in place. His need and lust now swirled painfully. "You are dismissed." Joel felt his body rebel against her command. His muscles strained in stillness, struggled against the restraint. His eyes swirled in a sickening red-brown haze as his rage peaked.

"We're not done here," he growled. His fists opened and closed, his body fighting against her control.

She cocked an eyebrow, her blue eyes sparkling with condescension. "Yes. We are," her soft voice commanded, with the sound of ice cracking. His body was cooling, stilling, he could feel it. _NO!_ he thought, _No!_ the beast shouted within. And his rage burned, his heart racing as his hatred and his lust and his rebellion pounded him from the inside. Building. Burning. Breaking. And suddenly, his rage peaked and her hold broke.

He took a small, deliberate step toward her, his eyes flashing dangerously. Slowly, he undid his pants, letting them fall to the floor. Her eyes widened in surprise and shock as she took in his imposing manhood. He took another step toward her and grasped her wrist, hard.

"No. We're not," he growled. And with a fearsome thrust, tossed her effortlessly on the bed. Before she could get up, or even move to stop him, he was there, his hips forcing her thighs open, his hands forcing her shoulders down on the bed, his fangs glinting devilishly in his mouth. His fiery eyes flashed into hers, a wicked expression contorting his face, and with a sudden, sharp thrust, he sheathed himself inside her.

She cried out in shock and pain and lust and Joel growled low in his throat, the pleasure of her warmth feeding the fire within him. He pounded her with reckless abandon, her rippling moans pouring out and her body struggling against his power. She pushed against his hold and he pounded into her harder, making her cry out. The sound of her pain was intoxicating.

A sudden urge gripped him and with a ferocious growl, Joel plunged his fangs into her soft neck. The flavor, the warmth, the sensation sent shivers down his spine and for a brief instant, Joel felt that he might tumble over the edge into blissful oblivion. But before his pleasure could climax, she shoved him back with renewed vigor, a feral growl ripping through her chest. Her strength suddenly magnified, she pushed him off of her, and rolled him on his back.

He breathed heavily before her clawed hand crashed heavily down on his throat, cutting off his air. He struggled, bucking up wildly beneath her, causing her to hiss in pain. But then she was rocking into him, grinding him at breakneck speed. He gasped for the air he couldn't reach, his body racing for the top, his lungs screaming. Tears leaked out of his eyes as he flirted with unconsciousness, the blackness creeping into his vision. Finally, at the last second, her grip released and Joel gasped in a deep breath. And then she pounded herself into him and Joel lost the air he'd sucked in with a sharp moan.

His hands reached for her. Needing to push her off or pull her down harder against him, he wasn't sure. But before he touched her, she leaned into him, her supple breasts dangling inches from his face. He longed to bring his mouth to them, but then her fingers were in his hair. Her pace increased and Joel found himself shaking beneath the forceful agony of his pending release. She was pushing him to climax. Her fingers curled in his hair, but then, with a hard jerk, she pulled his hair back, forcing his neck to arch toward her. He was so close, his body reaching for the top. She sucked in a deep breath and then, without warning, plunged her razor sharp fangs into his throat. She ground into him HARD, sucking his sweet blood in the same moment and Joel was falling, dying, spilling all that was in him, and she rode him high. He felt her walls tightening around him and her lips tighten on his throat and he knew she was coming with him.

The moment stretched and then she released him, collapsing heavily onto the bed beside him.

Joel stood, wiping the blood from him with her white sheets. He dressed in silence, his back to Lilith, lounging on the bed. He could feel her eyes on him. He knew she could kill him. Might very well kill him for disobeying her. Kill him for taking and ravaging her. But he kept his fear out of his posture. _Let her try_, he thought. _Better to die fighting than to live as her slave_. He pulled his shirt over his head and moved toward the door.

As he reached the threshold, he heard her voice in his head, "Well done, my pet," she crooned, "I see I've trained you well." Without looking back, Joel slammed the door behind him, rushing down the hallway to be away from her, away from her control. But her voice followed him.

"Sleep well, dear pet," she crooned, "And never forget... _You are __**mine**_**…**"

Joel woke with a start, panic racing his heart just as it had that night as he'd run from her voice, from her, and from the monster she'd turned him into.

His eyes blinked fiercely, trying to dispel the final remnants of his dream. And suddenly, as if by some miracle… or some horrible twist of fate, he saw her. Standing before him. Her dark hair tangled around her pale face, her dark eyes searching in her stoic expression, her still body tight with concern and anticipation.

He blinked again and pushed himself up into a seated position, forcing his eyes and his mind to stop playing tricks on him. But, even as the mists cleared, there she stood. In his cell. Waiting for him to wake.

"Wednesday?" he croaked, still not believing his eyes.

But then he saw it. Behind her, Melody and Veronica hovered, holding the door for Ethan to drag the girl's lifeless body from the cell. And, in the darkness of the threshold… Lilith, her blue eyes glinting with triumph.

Joel swallowed heavily, standing to face what could only be impending doom. Without a moment's hesitation, Wednesday closed the distance between them in two large strides, her black eyes burning Hellfire. She stood before him for a brief second before turning to face the vampires across the room.

Joel wrapped her small hand in his own and the two stared down their captors with an expression of defiance that both inflamed Joel's heart and scared him to death. _Here we go_, he thought.

And he knew that the final battle for power… for control… had begun.


	28. Numquam Subiecta

**Dear Readers, Thank you so much for your continued support and patience. As I promised, there will be more chapters! Pinky Promise. :) ~TLD**

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**Part Twenty-Eight: Numquam Subiecta **

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"Mother?" Pubert's voice was small in the darkened room.

She was corpse-pale, and just as still. And yet… Pubert crept further into the room, coming to stand beside his mother's bedside, his black moustache quivering on his trembling lips.

"Mother?" he called again, his whisper hitching on a strangled sob."Mother, please wake up."

The little boy climbed up into his father's vacated chair and, leaning over the space toward his mother, took her cold fingers in his hand. "Rêve-toi, Maman," he crooned, his French as flawless as his mother's. "Je t'aime."

* * *

"Well, what a charming sight this is," Lilith cooed, her voice edged with cruelty. Joel and Wednesday stood, their backs to the wall, fingers intertwined, looking defiantly at the assembled vampires with fire in their eyes. To Lilith, it was almost as beautiful as it was comical. _Children,_ she thought indulgently, _they have no idea._

"The two love birds, back together again," Lilith sang. Chuckles from the surrounding vampires flitted around the stone cell.

Joel tensed under her scrutiny, his eyes bouncing from her to Ethan on her left, and Melody and Veronica hovering in the still open doorway, his brain frantically trying to calculate the odds to blowing past them all to freedom. He scowled. It wasn't looking good.

Wednesday's voice broke into his calculations. "And what, exactly, is the reason you've brought us here?" she asked, her voice bored. "Certainly not to admire our good looks?" she added, her raised eyebrow mocking their captors.

"No, no," Lilith replied, her voice jocular. "Though," she shot Joel an appreciative glance, "that is an added bonus." The corner of her lips turned up in a seductive pout.

Wednesday's hand tightened on Joel's possessively. Lilith smirked.

"No," she continued, "you are here to help me bring to fruition a dream of mine. One that has been in the works for hundred of years." Her smile was beatific as she glanced between Joel and Wednesday. Joel felt the knot in his stomach tighten and writhe.

"We won't help you," Wednesday replied firmly, her voice cold and empty. She released Joel's hand, stepping toward Lilith, her pale face devoid of all emotion, the haunted depths of her black eyes betraying nothing. Joel felt his skin tingle at the sight of her. So vulnerable, so small, but so determined, so deadly – she was incredible.

Lilith's eyes lit up with the challenge. "No?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with humor. "You must think me so silly, so naïve to think that I could simply demand your assistance without applying the proper leverage."

Wednesday stilled, but her face betrayed nothing. "Silly me, but I thought you might appreciate the gravity of your situation on your own, my dear Wednesday," Lilith added, her voice condescending. "Surely Joel already has."

Joel felt the eyes of the room on him, his body heating despite the chill, a sudden warring of emotions filling him. Wednesday stared resolutely at Lilith, her back set against him. "Isn't that right, my pet," Lilith cooed, reaching out to Joel. He remained where he was, rooted in place by an irrational wave of shame. He beat it back. He'd already made his decision. Save Wednesday. That was all that mattered, now.

"I'll help you," Joel answered stiffly, desperately trying to ignore Wednesday's flinch at the sound of his voice. "If," he added haltingly, catching Lilith's smile, "You release Wednesday. Let her go, and…" he paused, swallowing, "I'm yours."

He couldn't see her face, but Joel thought he saw Wednesday's shoulders sag the slightest amount. Sadness? Shame? He couldn't know. Couldn't care. This was his only last fleeting hope. It Lilith had kept Wednesday as merely leverage to buy Joel's obedience, well, maybe he could give her what she wanted and spare Wednesday.

Lilith's laugh cut off his train of thought. "Oh Joel," she chided, "we already made that bargain, remember? Your loyalty in exchange for sparing you the agony," she rolled her eyes, "of draining her dry." She gestured to the blood streak on the floor where the girl had been dragged away. "Don't tell me you've already forgotten your latest meal? Surely a girl as pretty as that must have left some impression? Was she as sweet as she looked, Joel?" Her eyes glinted with sadistic pleasure. "You always did have something of a sweet tooth. Though, I can't say I'd have picked her over this one," she added, looking Wednesday up and down, licking her hungry lips with a delicate pink tongue.

Joel was shaking. Lilith's words were torture, of course, but what was worse was Wednesday's resolute back to him. She didn't so much as flinch as Lilith gestured to the blood stain, as she revealed how she'd broken him, how he cowed to her demands, given in to the monster.

Lilith's words hit him as though from far away. "A moving gesture, I'm sure you'd agree," she said, eyes resting on Wednesday, who showed no hint of having heard her. "But," she caught Joel's eye and smirked, "on the whole, unnecessary." When his eyes widened, she continued, "You see, Joel darling, I have no intention of letting Wednesday go. In fact, she is to be the guest of honor."

She smiled into Joel's horror-stricken face.

* * *

"Pubert?" Gomez poked his head in the doorway, catching sight of his youngest son, tears streaming silently down his face, murmuring bits of broken French, his little fingers clutching his mother's motionless hand.

"Son?" he said louder, coming to kneel beside the sobbing child. "Now there," he murmured, his arm draped over Pubert's small shoulders. "Everything's alright, Old Chap," he whispered. "No need for such tears."

"But-" Pubert coughed, his bloodshot eyes pouring into his father, "but, she won't wake."

"But of course she will, son," Gomez's jovial voice was diminished, but only slightly, by the trauma of the evening. "She's an Addams, is she not?"

"She is," Pubert muttered, wiping tears from his face.

"And you know our family credo, don't you, son?" Gomez said, bracingly, a sturdy pat on Pubert's shoulder. "Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc," he finished proudly.

"We gladly feast on those who would," Pubert hiccupped, his voice raw, "subdue us."

"That's my boy," Gomez crooned, holding his youngest tightly in his arms. "Now go on downstairs and help your brother."

"Yes, Father," Pubert replied, slightly cheered, as he slumped out of the room.

Gomez settled into Pubert's vacated chair, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his wife's brow. "Nos numquam subiecta," he whispered, almost to himself.

"Gomez?" Morticia's soft voice crackled like the rustling of papers.

"Cara?" Gomez whispered, incredulous. He stared down at her, her long liquid eyes fluttering open as soft gasping breaths pulsed against her bright blood colored lips.

"Gomez," she whispered, her breathing slowing to a more relaxed rhythm, a slight curl forming her lips. "That was Latin."

"Aye, Querida," Gomez smiled, "There's nothing quite like the pull of a dead language." He smirked, the casual smile only barely hiding the tears of joy in his eyes.

"Particularly when it is expertly resurrected by such a talented tongue," Morticia purred, only the slightest rasp in her voice hinting to her recent near death experience.

"I've missed you, my love," said Gomez, his voice straining against the rushing of emotions within him.

"And I've missed you, mon amour," Morticia replied breathlessly.

"Ah, Tish," Gomez gasped, familiar tingles coursing through him, "That's French!"

Morticia's answering "Oui" was drowned out by the flood of Gomez's desperate kisses.

**Please Review ;) **


	29. In Too Deep

**Another chapter, as promised ;) Short on words perhaps, but not on content. Finally, some answers. However, those of you wondering what Pugsley is up to will have to wait another chapter, I'm afraid. ~TLD**

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**Part Twenty-Nine: In Too Deep**

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_Guest of honor_… Joel shuddered, his heart sinking. This was much worse than he'd imagined. But if Wednesday was frightened, he couldn't tell. Her back was still toward him, her shoulders square, and her small frame rigid.

The cell seemed to shrink, the walls closing in and the looming figures of the surrounding vampires seemingly to hover more threateningly over them. Wednesday watched them through narrowed eyes.

The male with the missing arm shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flashing rapidly between Lilith and Joel with a desperate fury, his jaw clenching and unclenching nervously. The girls hung back in the doorway, their loose, predatory postures and matching expressions of pleased anticipation making them look like prowling hyenas anticipating the kill. And Lilith, blond and pale, looking soft and supple, save for the soul crushing menace in her cold, fathomless eyes. Her lips curled up again into a sinister smile, the barest hints of fangs glinting in her mouth.

Wednesday could still hear her last words rumpling through the cell. _I have no intention of letting Wednesday go… She is to be the guest of honor_. She imagined she ought to feel fear, panic even, but Wednesday found she couldn't. She felt Joel tense behind her. She could almost see his shaking form, imagine the flashing of fear in his hazel eyes, hear the racing beat of his heart. She didn't dare look back.

They were in too deep already.

The moment of silence stretched.

Finally Lilith smirked.

"Come," she shrugged, gesturing the open doorway, "We have much to discuss." She smiled as she stepped backwards out the open door, the beckoning in her eyes almost palpable. The tension in the room ebbed slightly, as if everyone let out a breath at the same moment. Wednesday threw a venomous look at the one-armed bodyguard before stomping out after Lilith. She felt Joel hesitate behind her, but didn't stop.

Joel watched her go with a gathering sense of dread. For a moment his feet wouldn't work, his muscles so rock solid he couldn't make himself follow her. He recovered quickly, but before he made it to the door he caught Ethan smirking in the corner. The urge to rip off the bastard's head momentarily overcame all fear, and Joel's eyes burned red with the force of his hate. He hissed menacingly. Ethan kept his smirk in place with effort, but otherwise didn't respond.

He followed the crowd into the next room, an open area set up something like a lobby. A couple of ordinary sofas, a couple of tables all set in mellow lighting, provided a disconcertingly mundane setting for the room's current occupants.

Lilith lounged, queen-like, on one of the sofas, looking the picture of ease. Joel watched as Wednesday crossed to the facing sofa and, with forced nonchalance, perched herself on one of the arm rests. Her posture reminded him of a panther, poised in the upper branches, lazily waiting for the kill. He stalled himself on the edges of the room, his instincts screaming.

"By now, I assume you know all about the rising ritual," Lilith drawled. Her voice was lazy, but her words affected Wednesday, who stiffened. Joel's forehead creased in confusion.

"What makes you think we have any idea what you're talking about?" Wednesday replied snidely. She rolled her eyes, her stiffened posture only barely noticeable under her attitude.

Lilith laughed, throwing her head back jovially. "Oh Wednesday," she laughed, "Now, let's do be honest with each other. It will make everything so much easier."

When Wednesday didn't respond, her jocularity vanished. Her eyes flashed evilly. She spat, "You don't really believe your family members are the only ones with connections below?" The growl in her voice echoed in the quiet room.

She smirked, shifted her position, and began again.

"As I said, you are familiar with the rising ritual, are you not?"

Wednesday nodded once, her eyes narrowed.

"Ah, that's much better," Lilith cooed. She sighed. "The various incantations are simple, and yet, I've been thwarted in my attempts time and again." Her brow furrowed slightly, her expression almost sad. Against his will, Joel felt himself lean toward her.

"I'd forgotten the key element, you see," she whispered, her voice wistful. She leaned toward Wednesday, her bright blue eyes locking on Wednesday's black ones. It was as if they were the only ones in the room. "My son," she whispered, her face warming with a small smile. "The answer was in the question. He's not just any demon," her voice rose steadily, "He can't be summoned like any other demon." Her eyes flashed with hunger. Joel stiffened, but Wednesday sat transfixed.

Lilith stood slowly, unfolding languidly like a jungle cat. Joel instinctively moved towards her, sensing her gathering power, his body preparing to throw itself between her and Wednesday. Wednesday sat immobile, her eyes wide, enthralled by Lilith's tone.

"He needs…" Lilith paused, and Joel heard the persuasion in her tone. His eyes flew to Wednesday's face, her slack expression confirming his worst fear: Lilith had her in her thrall. Joel hissed as her arms reached out slowly for Wednesday, "…a medium."

Comprehension dawned fast and heavy on Joel. "No!" he shouted, and he dove for Lilith. He'd barely lunged, when strong arms restrained him, crashing him to the floor. He landed heavily on his knees. The pain shot through him like lightning and he called out. Gritting his teeth, he forced his eyes open. The girls were at either side of him, pinning both arms behind his back. He growled up at them. Melody hissed, grabbed a handful of his hair and wrenched his head back.

Joel struggled in their grip, craning his neck to look at Wednesday, who stood, rising sleeper-like from the sofa, her eyes wide and unfocused. Joel growled loudly, struggling even more fiercely. Wednesday paused, her brow furrowed slightly, but Lilith smiled encouragingly, beckoning her closer.

"No," Joel moaned, desperation and defeat warring in his tone. Lilith's eyes shone red as Wednesday moved into her grasp. She stroked Wednesday's long raven hair with a tender caress. Joel winced when Wednesday didn't so much as flinch.

"But not just any medium," Lilith crooned, petting Wednesday fondly. "No, it has to be a human of extraordinary power." She was whispering now. "Able to traverse the below and not die, able to channel the demons of Hell and not be lost in the current. Touched," she purred, stroking Wednesday's check with her long, taloned finger, "by evil." Her eyes met Joel's over Wednesday's shoulder, and she flashed a knowing smile at him.

Joel felt his cheeks flush. So this was the price he'd pay for his one moment of happiness – opening Wednesday up to a new vulnerability she'd never even considered. But before he lost himself in the sea of self-loathing opening up at his feet, Lilith returned her attention to her captive prey.

"You, my dear," Lilith continued, will be my siren call into the abyss. You will be the one to call out to my son and bring him through to this world."

Wednesday heard Lilith's words as if from a great distance. Her body felt light and lifeless, floating as if on the edge of dreams. Her will was stripped from her and in its place was a numbness that terrified her. Her panic swelled, dulled by the cloying numbness, trapped inside her unresponsive body, watching helplessly as Lilith's throbbing red eyes and glinting fangs loomed ever closer.

"There is only one thing you still require, my dear, to draw my son to you," Lilith smiled, victory so close in her grasp, and exposed her long, glinting fangs.

Joel yelled and lurched as Lilith plunged her fangs into Wednesday's throat, shaking and struggling in his captors' grip, his eyes glued to Wednesday's slack fingers, her pale face almost mournful in its emptiness, her mouth opened in a small pout. The moment stretched and Joel could almost feel Wednesday's life being drained away. His growled ripped through the room. It echoed menacingly, hatred and violence and sheer abject horror drenching the sound, as suddenly, abruptly, Lilith pulled back.

Joel was shocked into silence. Wednesday remained on her feet, slightly wobbly, but otherwise still under her own power. Her eyes were foggy, but clearing. But even these signs of life were not enough to distract Joel from the trickling stream of blood tracing its way down her throat and chest.

"Wednesday?" he croaked, his voice a broken husk. She shook herself slightly, but didn't answer.

Lilith was breathing heavily. A throaty gasp pulled Joel's attention to her. Her whole body was shuddering, convulsing in aftershocks, her eyes pressed tightly closed and her arms wrapped around her as if she were freezing cold. He would have thought her in pain if not for the satisfied smirk twisting her bloodstained lips. A breathy giggle escaped in her ecstasy and her eyes flew open. Joel's breath caught at the sight of her, not red, but freezing icy white-blue eyes. She released a breath and a stream of white steam pour through her lips. She trembled, still smiling, as her whole body seemed to thaw out.

"Exquisite," she whispered.

Before she could elaborate, Joel's attention was once again caught by Wednesday, who was now wobbling uncontrollably. It wouldn't be long until she passed out from shock.

"Take them back to their cell," Lilith ordered, suddenly businesslike again. "They have a busy day tomorrow."

The girls started to drag him back as Ethan lifted a faint Wednesday over his shoulder. Joel couldn't even summon the will to fight.

But as they neared the cell door he called out to Lilith, "This is it? All this just to see your son again? He's a demon! You know he can't remain on earth for more than a few moments. Even if you kept him inside the circle! All this, just for that?" He was shouting by the end.

The girls were forcing him through the door, but now he fought; he _needed _to hear Lilith's answer.

She strode over triumphantly, her hips swaying seductively. Joel held his breath. When only inches separated them, she cupped his cheek in her palm.

"You're quite right my pet," she purred, "he can't remain for more than mere moments in his true form." Her eyes pressed into his, daring him to guess the answer before she said it, "not unless he has a host." Joel's eyes widened fractionally. "Thankfully, I have just the one in mind," she smiled, caressing his lips with her fingers. "A young, handsome, strong, _immortal_ body in which to live," she caressed his cheek, her eyes practically beaming.

Her tone turned coy as she released him. "He could possess a human, of course, but their bodies just wear out so quickly! But an immortal?" Joel shook, cursing himself for not seeing it sooner. "Just think, Joel, you and I, together forever." She smirked as if suddenly remembering a tangential detail, "Granted, you would be little more than a prisoner in your own body, subject to the rule of my beloved son," she licked her lips as if this thought aroused her, "that is, until he gains the strength to expel your soul completely and send you to Hell in his place." She laughed, and Joel couldn't even master the strength to hide his horror. He just dangled numbly from his captors' grip and allowed himself to be dragged back into the cell.

He didn't even flinch with the door banged shut, the click of the lock clanging through the cell with sickening finality.


End file.
